


Creative Outbursts (Probably Mostly It)

by 06_blue_eyed_boys_28



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben Hanscom Loves Beverly Marsh, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends, Beverly Marsh Loves Ben Hanscom, Bill Denbrough Loves Stanley Uris, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Boys In Love, College Losers Club (IT), Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier Being Idiots, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier-centric, Eleven | Jane Hopper and Mike Wheeler are Cute, Established Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Established Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Established Relationship, Everyone Loves Mike Hanlon, F/M, Finals Week, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Good Parent Karen Wheeler, Good Parents Karen and Ted Wheeler, Group chat, Hawkins (Stranger Things), I Love the Losers Club (IT), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Losers Club Group Chat (IT), M/M, Mike Wheeler Misses Eleven | Jane Hopper, Mileven, Mindless Fluff, Minor Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair, Modern Era, Not Beta Read, Reddie, Reddie Fluff, Richie Tozier Being Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier Being a Dumbass, Richie Tozier Has ADHD, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier Misses Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier and Mike Wheeler Are Twins, Richie Tozier is low-key afraid of needles, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Richie Tozier, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Richie Tozier, Song: You Belong With Me (Taylor Swift), Stanley Uris Has OCD, Stanley Uris Loves Bill Denbrough, Stranger Things and IT crossover, Thats not a real tag, The Losers Club Are Good Friends (IT), The Losers Club Deserve Happiness (IT), The Losers Club Love Each Other (IT), Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and they're quarantined together, are you reddie for it, corona chaos, established reddie, idc, im so sorry, it kinda follows canon though?, modern losers club, richie is running off red bull, richie sings in his sleep im not wrong, richie tozier gets his wisdom teeth taken out and boy is he loopy, the losers all live together, the losers are all 22 here, the stranger things kids have a group chat, this is a wreck don't judge me, why is that not a tag?, wisdom teeth removal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23889250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/06_blue_eyed_boys_28/pseuds/06_blue_eyed_boys_28
Summary: wisdom teeth extraction, the medicine that comes with it, taylor swift songs, horror movies, soft serve ice cream...?what could go wrong?(oh, and that's just the first chapter)
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair
Comments: 46
Kudos: 61





	1. medicine and soft serve ice cream (they're the same thing)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Millennialpink22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millennialpink22/gifts).



> fluff.  
> that's all. this is mindless fluff because @Millennialpink22 and i were craving soft serve ice cream and loopy richie asking for spaghetti and actually wanting eddie...  
> this was born.  
> i literally wrote this at 1 am, but i hope you enjoy!  
> comments and kudos are much appreciated!  
> <3 <3 <3

Richie blinks open his eyes, stretching a hand out of his blanket fort and reaching blindly for his glasses.

“They’re right here, Richie,” Eddie says, handing them over. 

“Thanks,” Richie mumbles, sitting up and running a hand through his slightly greasy hair. “What time is it?” 

“It’s almost 9:45. You’ve got time to get dressed, but then we have to go.”

Richie nods, running his tongue along the back row of his teeth, where his wisdom teeth are. He stands up and pulls on a random t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. 

Richie sniffs, plopping himself down at the kitchen counter. His whole head feels heavy, and he hasn’t even had surgery yet. It’s just leftovers from all the sinus infections he’s been getting throughout these past four months, which were caused by these stupid wisdom teeth. 

“So… breakfast?” he asks Eddie hopefully. 

“You know you can’t,” Eddie says, putting a little butter and jelly on a piece of toast for himself. 

“So you’re just going to eat right in front of me!” Richie exclaims, exasperated and still in a little pain. 

“Do you want me to go in the other room?” Eddie asks patiently.

“No,” Richie says, pouting a little. “I’m hungry.”

“I know, baby,” Eddie says, putting his food down and giving Richie a hug. “I’ll cook you something good when this is all over, okay?”

“Okay,” Richie agrees, watching Eddie eat the rest of his toast. 

The drive to the dentist’s is fairly quick, but it’s enough time for Richie to get himself worked up about the anesthesia and needles. 

It’s not that he’s afraid of needles, he just really doesn’t like them. 

Eddie senses Richie’s nerves by the persistent bounce of his leg and Richie’s utter refusal to look at him. 

“Richie,” Eddie says, gently but firmly. “It’s going to be alright.”

“I know,” Richie states.

Eddie’s used to this kind of stuff, having dealt with hospitals and needles since before he could talk. “Richie, if you keep working yourself up like this, your muscles are only gonna get tighter and it’s gonna hurt worse.”

“You think I have muscles?” Richie jokes. “I’m fine.” His leg is still shaking.

Eddie sighs. “Let’s just get in there.”

They hold hands as they walk in, which is a relatively new development that they are both elated about. 

Richie’s shaking his leg the entire time they’re waiting, and his hands have started shaking too. 

“Richie.”

“What?” Richie asks, a little harsher than he intended to. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I just need you to breathe with me, okay?”

Eddie taught him a breathing trick that helps with anxiety, sleep, and all sorts of things a while back, and he uses it now. 

Inhale for 4, hold for 7, and exhale for 8 counts. 

“Okay, okay,” Richie says softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Mr. Tozier?” a kind looking nurse says from the doorway. “Chair 3.” 

Richie smiles and walks back, still holding Eddie’s hand.

“Hi Richie,” Richie’s regular dentist, Dr. Katz, says. 

“Hey,” Richie says back, trying to stay calm. 

“Have you eaten within the last eight hours?” the nurse, Jen, asks.

“Nope,” Richie replies, popping the ‘p.’

“What about drinks?” Dr. Katz asks. 

“No,” Richie replies. 

“Must be pretty hungry then, huh?” Jen asks playfully.

Richie nods.

“Well, don’t worry, we’ll have this surgery finished and you’ll recover like that,” the doctor says, snapping his fingers. “Then you can eat. But only soft foods.”

“Sounds good,” Richie says, squeezing Eddie’s hand.

“Okay, can you lay back for me?” Dr. Katz asks, pushing the chair down. 

“Uhm…” Richie stammers. “I-”

“It’s okay,” Eddie says. “I’m right here.”

“Yep. Okay.”

Dr. Katz smiles. “We’re going to put you under now. Can you take off your glasses?”

Richie nods, closing his eyes and handing his glasses off to Eddie. He feels them hook the cannula up to his nose and is way too focused on how much it tickles to worry about the needle. All he feels is a small prick in his arm. 

“Okay, now count backwards from ten,” Dr. Katz says. 

“I don’t-” Richie starts, losing his train of thought. “Ten, nine… eighty-seven…” His eyes shut and his head tips back, mouth falling open. He’s quiet.

Eddie laughs, draping his boyfriend’s limp hand across his chest. “Jeez. Never seen him shut up that fast,” he jokes. 

Dr. Katz smiles. “I assume you’ll be picking him up?”

“Yes.” 

“Well, we’ll see you in an hour or so Mr…” Jen trails off.

“Kaspbrak,” Eddie says. 

“See you!” 

Eddie leaves the office with a smile, knowing Richie is in good hands. 

* * *

“Hey Richie,” a disembodied voice says. 

Richie looks up, blinking his heavy eyelids, and then opting to close them again. He giggles. “H-hi.”

“Can you open your eyes for me?” another voice says. 

Richie shakes his head, finding that it feels very heavy, and he can’t move it all that well. He can’t move anything all that well. 

“Richie,” the first voice repeats. “Open your eyes.”

He blinks, staring at the ceiling. He’s uncomfortable. His mouth feels… it feels like nothing. It feels heavy, and a little hot, but mostly… numb. And… there’s something fuzzy in it.

“Ugh,” he mumbles.

“Okay, we’re going to help you sit up,” the male voice says, and he sees two blurry figures walking toward him.

They help him to sit, and he doesn’t say anything, simply staring at a blurry brown spot on the wall and thinking about how much it annoys him. 

He points to it. “This place is so dirty,” he mumbles, tongue heavy and weird-feeling in his mouth. “Spaghetti wouldn’t like it.”

_Spaghetti._

He misses his Spaghetti. He feels so weird, out of place, and uncomfortable right now. He knows Spaghetti would make it all so much better.

He feels tears prick behind his eyes. “Spaghetti…” he mumbles. “I wanna-” he cuts himself off, looking around at the blurry room. “Where is he?” 

“Where’s who, sweetie?” a kind, gentle voice asks. 

“Spaghetti,” Richie says, frustrated. He lets out a sob. “I want pasta _now_ ,” he whines. But not just any pasta. No. He wants Spaghetti. “There’s so many different types of pasta,” he manages. “But Spaghetti is by far the best. I want him.”

“Okay, you’re not going to be able to eat spaghetti for a little bit still,” the male voice says. 

Richie looks around, trying to put a body to the voice. “I can’t _see_ ,” he whines, rubbing at his eyes with heavy hands. He closes his eyes, palming them frustratedly.

“Honey, don’t do that,” the more feminine voice says, gently pulling his hands away from his eyes. 

Richie sees spots. “Spaghetti…” he mumbles, trailing off. These people _clearly_ don’t understand what he wants. He lets the hot tears fall on his lap, content to just drown in his own misery. 

He slumps in his seat before he hears the door open.

“Hi, is he up?” an unmistakable voice asks. 

“Spaghetti!” Richie exclaims, sitting up and then nearly falling back over. “Spaghetti, I want Spaghetti now…” he trails back off into tears, so overjoyed at hearing his Spaghetti’s voice, but mad that they aren’t cuddling right now.

“Yes, and he keeps asking for pasta,” the male voice says, laughing lightly. 

“That would be me,” Eddie says, sighing. 

“I can’t see!” Richie exclaims again, looking around the room. 

“Aw, shit. I shoulda left his glasses here,” Spaghetti says, walking toward Richie. He fixes Richie’s glasses on his face. “Here you go, baby.”

“Spaghetti,” Richie says, reaching his arms out for a hug. Spaghetti’s face is still a little blurry, but it’s clearer than it was before. 

Eddie gives him a hug, and Richie buries his face in Eddie’s stomach.

“Nickname?” the male voice asks, and Richie looks up, identifying the voice as Dr. Katz, the person who… just helped him… with something…? Yeah. 

“Yes,” Eddie Spaghetti laughs, running his fingers through Richie’s hair. 

“Somebody toucha my Spaghet,” Richie says, lifting his head. Tears are still falling slowly from his cheeks. 

Eddie snorts. “You’re so out of it.”

Richie gives him a confused face. “Spaghet.”

Eddie laughs again. “He’s an idiot, sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the lady nurse says. “Everyone gets weird when they’re loopy.”

“He’s weird normally,” Eddie clarifies. 

“Am not,” Richie protests, though the sound is muffled because of the gauze in his mouth. 

“I brought you your favorite hoodie,” Eddie says, holding out Richie’s largest, softest hoodie. It’s navy blue with white strings, and it’s two sizes too big for Richie, which makes it perfect.

“You’re too sweet to me,” Richie says, tears pricking behind his eyes again. He sniffs, trying to hold them back, but they are persistent. “I really really really love you.”

“I know, dipshit,” Eddie replies. “Love you, too. Now put your arms up.”

Richie puts his arms up, but they keep falling, so the nurse has to hold his arms up while Eddie puts them through the holes. His hair is a wild black halo around his head when Eddie manages to pull the sweatshirt down over it. 

“Pretty?” Richie asks stupidly.

“Shut up,” Eddie answers. 

Jen and Dr. Katz give each other a look. 

Richie leans on Eddie as well as he can while still in a dentist’s chair, while the doctor and nurse talk to Eddie about stuff. Richie doesn’t know what kind of stuff. All Richie knows is that his Spaghetti is here now, and he smells good. And that’s… good.

“Are you ready to go home?” Eddie asks, after Richie’s been staring off into space for way too long. 

Richie nods slowly, his head still feeling unbearably heavy. 

A few nurses help him into a wheelchair. 

“My legs are absolute shit,” he comments absently, the gauze slurring his words. “Jello. Jelly. Spaghetti. Spaghetti have I mentioned how much I love you?” 

“You have. Multiple times, actually,” Eddie comments smartly. 

“Okay, we’re going to help him into the car,” Jen says. 

Eddie opens the door. 

“Three, two, one-” The two nurses lift Richie by his underarms, and get him into the car before he takes a nasty spill on the sidewalk. 

“Woah,” he murmurs, vision swimming slightly. He slumps over in the seat, and sees something white and red fall into his lap. 

“Oh, buddy,” Eddie mutters. “That’s gross.”

“What?” Richie asks. 

“It’s okay. It’s going to happen,” the other nurse says, handing him some fresh gauze. She pulls on some gloves and sticks it in Richie’s mouth. 

Richie pokes it with his tongue curiously. “Ow.” His eyes well up with tears again. 

“Are you guys good to go?” Jen asks. 

Eddie nods. 

“Okay, call us if he is in any extreme pain, you know the drill, I’m sure Dr. Katz told you all of it inside,” the other nurse says. 

“Yep,” Eddie says. “Thank you guys so much.”

“Thanks you guyses,” Richie mumbles, slumping over in his seat. 

Eddie pushes him back up. “You have to sit up.”

“Can’t,” Richie states. He pokes Eddie’s cheek. “You’re so beautiful. I love your freckles. They’re like… they’re like stars…”

“Okay, okay, enough with the flattery,” Eddie says quickly, blushing.

“No,” Richie says firmly, the tears that were welling up earlier coming back. “I love you, I will make it known!” He coughs. “I hate this fucking shit in my mouth. What the fuck?”

Eddie laughs. “Baby, you gotta keep it in there.”

Richie puts a finger in his mouth. “It hurts…” he whines. 

“I know,” Eddie says. 

Richie slumps over again, his glasses falling down his nose. Eddie pushes them back up. 

Richie sticks another finger in his mouth, and then pulls it out, blood and saliva dripping all over it. 

“Richie, that’s gross,” Eddie says, pulling a baby wipe out of his tiny package that he keeps in the glove compartment. He wipes Richie’s fingers off quickly. 

“That’s what she said,” Richie says, snorting. “I’m hungry…” Richie whines. 

“I know, baby,” Eddie replies. 

“Want… want ice cream.”

Eddie is quiet for a minute. “Okay, I don’t see why not. The doctors said it was okay. Soft serve only, though.”

“Of course,” Richie mumbles through the saliva in his mouth. “I love you so much, Eds. I want kiss you.”

Eddie looks up. Richie’s drooling quite a bit, and a lot of it is bloody. “After we get you home and cleaned up?” he offers.

Richie pouts. “You don’t love me.”

“Richie, of course I love you. I love you lots.”

“Then kiss me.”

“Baby, you’re drooling blood.”

“You should still love me,” Richie says, crossing his arms and turning his head the other way. A bit of drool lands on his sleeve. 

“Richie, you’ve gotta swallow-”

“YOU KNOW I SWALLOW YOU FUCKING JERK!” Richie screams unexpectedly, turning around. Tears blur his vision. “I LOVE YOU!”

“I love you, too, Richie,” Eddie says, trying to suppress his giggles. 

Richie swallows. “See! I do!” He gags quickly. “What the fuck is in my mouth?” He brings his hands up to his mouth again, but Eddie pulls them back down. 

“Richie, open up.” Richie compiles. “Okay, you’re good. Swallow your spit, not the gauze.”

“‘Kay.”

“Now, Dairy Queen?”

Richie nods, and is surprisingly quiet on the drive.

“Just a vanilla cone, right Richie?”

“With rainbow sprinkles,” Richie confirms, nodding his head and smiling.

“Oh, baby, you can’t have those yet,” Eddie says sadly, hating to break the news to his boyfriend.

“Why not?” Richie asks, heartbroken. His eyes are welling up with tears again.

Eddie really doesn’t want to make him cry. “The doctor said you can’t have sprinkles for a little bit. They’ll be too hard on your teeth.”

“But… that’s what your mom said…” Richie trails off, letting the tears take over him. Eddie rubs his shoulder and orders the ice cream. “I’m gay, I deserve rainbow sprinkles.”

Eddie snorts. 

“Here’s your ice cream,” the drive-thru worker says. 

Richie sobs loudly. “Fuckin’ sprinkles!”

Eddie winces. “Sorry. He just got his wisdom teeth taken out.”

The girl giggles. “No problem. I hope he feels better, and you two have a nice day!”

“Thanks.” Eddie beams. “Can you hold your ice cream? Or do you need me to help you?”

“I don’t need help from someone who won’t let me have rainbow sprinkles,” Richie says, pouting, and clearly still hurt. 

Eddie pulls over in the Dairy Queen parking lot, because Richie clearly needs help. Eddie helps him get the gauze out of his mouth and then shows him how to lick with his heavy tongue, demonstrating on his own ice cream. Richie quickly gets the hang of it, and finishes the ice cream in five minutes flat. He’s got it all over his face and is drooling quite a bit, and Eddie helps him clean up, using the baby wipes for his face and putting two new wads of gauze in the back of his mouth.

“You good to go home?” Eddie asks. 

Richie nods, releasing a huge yawn. “ ‘m sleepy, Eds.”

“Okay, take a nap.”

“But I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Richie’s out within the minute, head thrown back and mouth wide open. 

Eddie pulls into their driveway and then rubs Richie’s shoulder lightly to rouse him. It does absolutely nothing. 

“Well, shit,” he mutters under his breath. “Richie,” he says tightly.

Nothing. 

“Uhm…” he looks at his phone and then back at Richie, weighing his options.

He can do this himself. 

He unbuckles Richie and then catches him before he slumps over and hits his head on the dashboard. He tries to pull Richie out of the car, but he’s a little over 6 feet tall and around 145 pounds, so it’s not working out too well. 

He pulls away and lets Richie slump back against his seat. He grabs his phone and dials Bev’s number first. 

“Uhm… hey Bev, yeah, I’m fine, Richie just got his wisdom teeth out…” Eddie chuckles lightly. “Yeah… he’s passed out in the front seat of my car and I didn’t really think this through… at all. Can you come over and help me get him inside?”

Of course, she says yes. 

Eddie calls Stan next and tells him the same thing, and he says yes as well, though with a little more sarcasm. 

They arrive relatively quickly, but Eddie’s paced the lawn a few times since he called. 

“Bev!” he yells. “Stan! Hi.”

“Hey, Eddie!” They each give him a hug.

“So where’s the problem child?” Stan asks dryly. 

“Out cold,” Eddie says, pointing to where Richie’s slumped over in the front seat of his car. 

Bev doubles over laughing. “Hold on. I need to get a picture of this. This is _golden_ blackmail material.”

After a few pictures, Eddie finally gets back to focusing on the problem at hand. 

“So… how are we gonna move him?”

“And you tried waking him up?” Stan asks. 

“Yep.”

“Trust me,” Beverly starts. “Nothing works.”

“He’s literally drugged,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes. 

“Okay, I guess just pull him out and kinda help him walk?” Bev suggests. “It’ll be easier with the three of us.”

“Okay,” Eddie says. 

“On three. One, two-”

“Three,” Stan finishes, and they pull Richie out of the car, though most of the power is Stan, with his arms around Richie’s back. 

They slowly get him inside, and he wakes up a bit to mumble something about turtles and oranges, but then quickly passes out again as soon as he’s on the bed.

“Damn,” Beverly says. “He’s skinny as fuck, but he’s also heavy. That makes zero sense.”

“Correct,” Stan says. 

“Do you guys want anything to eat or drink?” Eddie asks. 

“Water,” Bev says.

“Do you have that one brand of hummus…?” Stan starts.

Eddie nods, pulling it out of the fridge, along with some pita chips. 

“I can’t believe the dumbass finally got his wisdom teeth out,” Bev says, stealing a pita chip from Stan’s plate.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, sighing. “He put it off for a while. But at least now he won’t be complaining about headaches, sinus infections, and toothaches all the time.”

Stan nods. 

Eddie walks into the other room to check on Richie, who’s still fast asleep, face smashed into his pillow and drooling all over it.

“Oh jeez,” Eddie says. 

“You’re on the phone with your girlfriend, she’s upset,” Richie murmurs. 

“What?” Eddie asks, completely stopping what he was doing. 

“She’s going off about something that you said, ‘cuz she doesn’t get your humor like I do,” Richie continues, even mumbling the little guitar part after that lyric.

“Oh my goodness.” Eddie puts a hand over his mouth because as much as he hates to admit it, this is adorable. “Beverly come here,” he whispers.

“But she wears short skirts, I wear hawaiian shirts, and she’s cheer captain but I’m on the bleachers…” The gauze is almost falling out of Richie’s mouth, but Eddie needs to let this keep going.

“Stan!” he calls, a little louder. “Guys, get your asses over here!”

“What?” Bev asks, walking into their bedroom.

“If you could see that I’m the one who understands you, been here all along so why can’t you see…” Richie sleep-sings, almost at full-volume now. 

“Get out your phone,” Eddie whispers, smiling. 

“You belong with me… you belong with me! And I remember you were driving to my house in the middle of the night I’m the one who makes you laugh, when you know you’re ‘bout to cry! I know your favorite songs, and you tell me ‘bout your dreams, think I know where you belong… think I know it’s with me…” Richie trails off, breath getting heavier.

“This is precious,” Eddie says. 

“Precious blackmail,” Bev replies, turning the camera on him. 

“For both of you,” Stan finishes her thought, snickering. 

“Can’t you see that I’m the one who understands you…” Richie continues, voice a low murmur now. “Been… here… all… along…” he trails off, breaths evening out into soft snores. 

“This bitch,” Bev says, laughing. “Damn. What a performance.”

“He should win a Grammy,” Stan says dryly.

Eddie does a little bit of cleaning, and watches some Netflix with Stan and Bev. He lets Richie sleep ‘til about six, then starts worrying about whether or not he’s going to sleep that night. 

“Guys, I’m going to go wake him up, can you start some soup or something?”

“He’s still asleep?” Bev asks.

Eddie nods. “He needs to eat and shit… and I want him to sleep through the night.”

“Okay,” Stan says, shrugging. “Bev, let’s do chicken noodle soup.”

“Rich,” Eddie says softly, shaking his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Ng… go away, Eddie,” Richie mumbles, hiding his face in his pillow. 

“Okay, Richie, I know everything hurts, but I need you to eat something… and try to stay awake until at least nine?” 

Richie nods, and Eddie helps him sit up straight. 

Bev and Stan help Richie walk on shaky legs to the living room, where he sips soup, water, and takes a few painkillers. Sadly, these painkillers also cause drowsiness. 

Eddie leaves the room, thinking hard about what to do.

“Uhm… scary movie time!” Eddie says, abruptly. “Guys, let’s watch The Conjuring!”

“Eds… you hate that movie…” Richie mumbles. “I don’t… don’t wanna watch it. No.”

“No I don’t hate that movie,” Eddie argues. “I haven’t seen it in a while.”

“What are you doing?” Bev whispers. 

“I’m keeping him awake.”

“By scaring him?” Stan asks, amused.

Eddie nods, extremely focused on the task at hand. 

Even with all the lights on and no blankets, Richie is still very out of it, and only seems truly awake at the jump scares. Whenever one of those happens, Richie startles and then whines and just stares straight ahead for the next ten minutes before lightly dozing off again, his head either on Eddie’s or Bev’s shoulder.

Eddie’s shaking him awake for the tenth time when Stan puts a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Dude. Mike just got his wisdom teeth out and he slept through the night. Just let him lay the fuck down.”

Richie whines, shifting his position so he’s more in Beverly’s lap than on her shoulder.

“And can we change the movie?” Stan asks. “I’m over this one. These jump scares are predictable.”

Stan and Bev stay until around ten o’clock, when they help Eddie move Richie to bed and then leave to go home to their own boyfriends. 

Much to Eddie’s surprise, Richie sleeps through the entire night, and so does Eddie. Eddie thinks this might be the first night in a few months he’s done that without Richie kicking him or waking him up with a late night thought.

“Hey Eddie, do you think John Wilkes Booth really died that day?“ Richie asked one night. 

Eddie had smacked him on the arm to shut him up. 

Eddie rolls over and looks at Richie. Even though he’s drooling and his once high cheekbones are now nowhere to be found with all the swelling his cheeks have done overnight, he’s still the most beautiful thing Eddie’s ever seen.

Not that he’d let anyone know that, though.

Eddie makes Richie a bowl of yogurt with honey and then sets it in front of him, along with a glass of water and more painkillers. 

“It hurts so bad, Eds…” Richie complains. “Everything is swollen, and these painkillers just make everything feel heavy, and hot… and like it doesn’t fucking belong!”

“I know, baby.”

“No you don’t fucking- you didn’t have your wisdom teeth!”

“Yep,” Eddie states. “Guess I’m just more evolved than you.”

Richie huffs. “More evolved my ass.”

“Fuck you.”

“I love you, too.”

After breakfast, Eddie helps Richie walk around the house a little, regaining his bearings. This ends up tiring him out, and he takes a couple quick, fifteen-minute naps before getting mad at himself for falling asleep again and requesting that Eddie take him outside. 

“I can’t exactly…”

The doorbell rings. 

“What the-”

Eddie stands up, pulling Richie after him. 

All the Losers are at the door, each holding a homemade soft food and a favorite movie. 

“Surprise, bitch,” Bev says, pulling Richie in for a hug. 

“What?” Richie asks. 

“You’re in pain, and we love you, so we’re here,” Mike says. 

“Yep… that’s… that’s pretty much it,” Ben reiterates. 

Richie blushes. “Woah, guys… thanks so much. Love you guys, too, I-”

Bill pulls him into a hug. “Don’t w-w-worry about it.”

“So which movie are we watching first?” Richie asks, grinning. 

They settle in on the couch, and Riche starts off just snuggling Eddie, but the pain in his mouth becomes troublesome and he requests to be sandwiched in between Eddie and one of his other friends at all times. 

They work their way through all three Back to the Future movies, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Heathers, and are just about to start The Goonies.

Richie feels so warm and safe, his head on Bev’s chest and his legs tangled with Eddie’s. Eddie’s hand is in his hair and his other hand rubbing his back. He feels like he could stay here forever.

“Richie, you’re laying on my boob,” Bev says, ruining the moment.

“I don’t give a fuck,” Richie replies, moving his head further down so he’s more on her stomach. 

She giggles, and then is quiet. 

He watches the familiar scenes of the movie play in front of him, and feels his eyes getting heavier. He’s so warm, surrounded by loved ones, and just… utterly content and at peace with the world.

He’s completely forgotten about the pain in his jaw. 

“Bev… s-s-shit,” Bill whispers, giggling and pointing at Richie. 

“The dumbass is asleep isn’t he?” Bev asks. 

“Yep,” Ben confirms, laughing. 

“Just let him be,” Mike says. 

“No,” Bev says. “Stan, get the camera.”

Stan takes some more pictures… purely for blackmail of course. Not that Eddie’s gonna steal some of the polaroids later or anything.

No. 

And after a few days, when Richie can walk and is back on a semi-normal sleep schedule (normal for him, anyway), he thinks he looks like shit in all the photos, and chases Bev around the house for as long as he can begging for them back.

Eddie reassures him he looks adorable, and then he starts to believe it. The Losers tell him about all the stupid shit he did while loopy, and Eddie informs him about… something about ice cream and rainbow sprinkles and how that had to do with being gay? Yeah. And Richie thinks about medicine and soft serve ice cream… and how they are basically the same thing.


	2. corona chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and they were quarantined  
> oh my gosh they were quarantined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey all!  
> welcome back to another episode of it's late and idk what i'm doing  
> i'll be your host... please comment and leave kudos... lmao  
> anyway, this is another idea that @Millennialpink22 and i developed because we were bored and needed the losers being absolutely chaotic (and sweet, and drunk, and... yeah mostly chaotic)  
> i don't own any of the songs or brands used in this fic, although that should go without saying haha :)  
> featuring:  
> richie and bev's sleep schedule being fricked  
> eddie and ben thriving  
> stan and bill playing video games  
> mike being a master chef
> 
> also i'm not trying to minimize the seriousness of the situation, i'm just trying to make the most of how much it sucks lol so i hope you guys enjoy reading this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it! also, if you have any suggestions for off-the-wall one-shots you want me to do next, feel free to leave them in the comments below because i'm bored as heck and sometimes inspo just won't come until you let yourself step away from bigger projects and do something creative? creative outbursts lol, that's all this is  
> anyway, enjoy ! <3  
> oh ! and listen to "put your head on my shoulder" during the part where it mentions that song, the tik tok remix is cool but like if you're old school go for the old school version too haha  
> ok i'm done talking now  
> i think

“Mike, I can’t believe we’re not going back to school,” Eddie says, holding up his phone and showing Mike what the latest news article says about the coronavirus.

Mike shrugs. “I kinda saw it coming, what with everything else shutting down…”

“We’re not going back to school?!” Richie asks, walking into the kitchen. He runs a hand through his hair and yawns, and Eddie immediately knows he pulled another all-nighter. 

Quarantine has definitely been rough. 

“Nope,” Mike answers, taking another sip of his orange juice. 

During their freshman year of college, the Losers had all roomed together on campus, Stan with Mike and Bill, Richie with Eddie, and Ben with Bev, but the summer before junior year, they’d all saved up enough money to buy a place off-campus. Living with your best friends in the entire world is amazing. All of them can agree on that. 

But ever since quarantine, things have been very different.

“Good morning, guys,” Ben says cheerily, following Stan into the kitchen, who is about to make another pot of coffee. 

“Mike, you made the coffee weird this morning,” Stan says, stirring the coffee in his cup with a small spoon. 

Mike looks up. “What do you mean?”

“It wasn’t as strong.”

“Oh, I think I used regular instead of espresso… sorry about that.”

“‘S okay,” Stan mumbles, starting another pot. 

“Where’s Bev?” Richie asks, closing the fridge after pulling out a cutie. He starts peeling it. 

“She’s already out,” Ben replies. “How late did you guys stay up?”

Richie shrugs. “What time is it?”

“Eight,” Eddie replies. 

Richie snorts. “We didn’t go to bed.”

Eddie shakes his head, about to scold Richie but Bill walks through the door before he can get a word out. He looks mildly nervous. 

“Bill, are you okay?” Stan asks in a soft tone that he reserves only for his boyfriend.

Bill nods. “I j-j-just… okay, so they d-d-didn’t have anymore b-b-bread at the store, and I know that you guys eat s-sandwiches for lunch, I d-do too, and I looked in l-like, th-three stores and they d-didn’t h-h-have any-”

“Relax, Big Bill, it’s all good,” Richie says, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “We can adapt, right guys?”

“Yeah,” Mike says, ever the optimist. “You can try again tomorrow, or later, once they stock up on supplies again.”

“Supplies?” Stan asks dryly. “You’re acting like this is a World War, not-”

“Well, World War III almost happened back in January,” Richie says, throwing away his orange peel and putting the last slice in his mouth.

“Oh not this again,” Stan complains. 

“I’m just saying!” Richie holds up his hands, leaving the kitchen. “I’m going to go watch TV.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, sighing. He pulls out a box of Honey Bunches of Oats and pours a bowl for himself and Ben. It’s their favorite breakfast item to have after a run. 

“So, does anyone h-h-have any Netflix r-r-recommendations?” Bill asks. “I’ve kinda r-r-run out of sh-shit to watch.”

“Felt that,” Mike says. “Not really… we still have Disney +, right?”

“Yeah,” Ben replies. 

“We could have a Disney movie marathon?” Mike suggests.

“Yes,” Stan says with a complete straight face. 

“Okay, so w-when?” Bill asks.

“Whenever.” Eddie shrugs. 

“Richie and Bev’ll be pissed if we watch Disney movies without them,” Ben points out.

“Their fault for making Tik Toks all night instead of sleeping like normal human beings,” Stan says. 

“Tik Toks? That’s what they were fucking doing?” Eddie asks incredulously. 

“A-a-apparently,” Bill says.

“Okay, we can start the movie marathon after dinner, which is…?” Eddie asks excitedly, turning to Mike and Bill.

“Homemade cream of mushroom soup and grilled chicken,” Mike answers proudly. 

“Mike, how did we get so lucky to have you in the kitchen?” Ben asks. 

Mike shrugs and blushes. 

“I’m h-h-helping!” Bill says, sticking up for himself. 

“Bill, sweetie,” Stan starts. “You nearly burnt the place down last week.”

Bill’s face falls. “Y-yeah… a-about that…I w-wanna get better…”

“It’s okay!” Mike says. “Because I was hoping you’d help me with desert?”

“I would l-love that,” Bill says, smiling. “What are we making?”

“So I was scrolling through Tik Tok the other day,” Mike starts.

Stan glares at him. 

“What? It’s a good app.”

Now Eddie glares at him too.

“Haters,” Mike mumbles under his breath. “Anyway, y’know those cookies you get from Target, and like they’re so good but they’re only store-bought?”

Everyone nods. 

“Well they actually have a name,” Mike continues.

“Wait, really?” Ben asks. 

“Yes. They’re called lofthouse cookies and I found a recipe!” 

“No s-s-shit!” Bill says, putting his hand down on the table with excitement. 

“Yep.”

“Is it sad that we’re getting this excited over fucking cookies?” Stan asks nobody in particular. 

“No, it’s fucking quarantine, just go with it,” Eddie replies, smiling slightly. 

“Cool,” Stan says. "Okay, I’m going to try to finish Detroit Become Human t-today, so if anyone wants to come help me…” 

“I w-will,” Bill volunteers, following Stan out of the room. 

Ben finishes his cereal and then washes his dish, a fact that Eddie is extremely grateful for. Quarantine has made him extremely antsy and with that has come tons and tons of cleaning, which is calming but also annoying when nobody else helps him.

“Thanks, Ben,” Eddie says, expressing his gratitude. 

“No problem, Eddie,” Ben replies. 

“Mike, have you thought of dinner plans for the rest of the week?” Eddie asks. 

“Not really,” Mike says. 

“Okay, well I was thinking Friday could be pizza night, and I know everyone really enjoyed the fried chicken you did last Saturday, and I know Bill really wanted to try to grill some steak on Sunday,” Eddie says. 

Mike cringes. 

“I know, I know, but he’s never going to get any better in the kitchen if we don’t let him experiment and try, y’know?”

“Love how we’re talking about him like he’s ten instead of twenty-two,” Mike says, laughing.

“Yeah, but would that be cool?”

“Of course,” Mike says. 

“Okay.” 

Eddie finishes washing the rest of the dishes in the sink by hand and then starts the dishwasher. He cleans the counter and then sweeps and mops, getting down on his hands and knees to scrub in between the tiles of the kitchen floor. He wipes down the dining room table and makes sure all the dish towels are folded and in place. He dries the dishes that are fresh out of the dishwasher, and then gives everyone a friendly reminder to wash their damn dishes when they’re done using them, it’s not that hard. 

He sighs and walks into the living room, where Mike and Ben are hunched over yet another puzzle. 

“What’s this one?” Eddie asks, looking over Mike’s shoulder. 

“Cats,” Mike says. 

“Again?” Eddie asks. 

“Apparently they’re the only kind Richie will buy,” Ben replies, shrugging. “It’s okay. I’m cool with whatever.”

Eddie laughs. “Yeah. Okay. Can I join you guys?”

“Sure.”

Eddie pulls up a chair and they finish the border of the puzzle, along with a few big inside pieces. Stan takes Eddie’s place when he gets bored, and Eddie sits down on the couch to watch a little bit of YouTube. 

“This motherfucker is still asleep,” Eddie says, dragging a hand through Richie’s hair. “You’re a dumbass, you know that?” He takes off Richie’s glasses and sets them on the coffee table. “He’s a dumbass.”

Stan snorts. “It took you this long to figure that out?”

“Shut up,” Eddie replies, cheeks turning slightly red. “I knew I-”

“You love him for it, we get it,” Mike says. “I’m going to start on dinner.”

“Already?” Eddie asks, checking his watch. 

“Well… yeah it’s almost five o’clock.”

“You’re right. Gosh, where the hell did the time go?”

“I guess it moves fast when all the days blend together,” Ben says. 

“Yeah. Where’s Bill?” Eddie asks. 

“I got frustrated with the game, so he’s continuing for me.”

“I should probably go get Bev for dinner,” Ben says, leaving the room. 

Eddie runs a hand through Richie’s hair and pokes his cheek. “Richie, wake up. Richie. _Richie_.”

Richie looks up, smiling a little. “Good morning.”

“Good _afternoon_ ,” Eddie replies, hand on Richie’s cheek. “You seriously need to get back on a normal sleep schedule. This isn’t good for you.”

Richie yawns. “I’m fine. The only bad part about it is that I don’t get to see you as much.”

“Exactly,” Eddie says. 

Richie’s face lights up.

“Fuck. I know that look…”

“Okay, so since Bev and I are like nocturnal or whatever, you and Ben should pull an all-nighter with us tonight! We’ll get some good couple time in, like a… like a quarantine double date!”

“Nope,” Eddie says immediately, shutting him down. “No way.”

“Why not?” Richie pouts. 

“Because. The whole point of quarantine is so more people don’t get sick-”

“From coronavirus, not from whatever disease you think you’ll catch by staying up past ten-”

“For your information, I go to bed at ten thirty, and-”

“Eds, it’ll be _fun_!” Richie gives him puppy dog eyes. 

Eddie is _so_ close to breaking, and Richie knows it. “Ugh. Fine. But not tonight. Like… tomorrow or something.”

“Jeez, Eds, is it such a grueling task you need time to prepare?”

“No! Yes, No!” Eddie yells. “Just shut up, dinner’s almost ready.”

Richie kisses his cheek and then stands, pulling Eddie up with him. 

“Beaverly!”

“Bitchard!”

The two night-owls hug, reuniting in the kitchen. 

“You two are idiots,” Stan states.

“You love us,” Richie says, giving Stan a one armed hug. 

“You guys really shouldn’t be touching and hugging this much,” Eddie says nervously. “We’re in the middle of a global pandemic-”

“That’s not what you said last night,” Richie shoots back, pulling out his chair and sitting down next to Bev. 

“Fun fact: he didn’t say anything last night because you didn’t even enter your room,” Bev says, defending Eddie.

“Thanks Bev, that means a lot,” Eddie says, spooning himself some soup. Mike already gave everyone a piece of chicken, and left it up to the Losers to decide how much soup, peas, and corn they want. 

“Damn, Mike, this is good,” Richie says, mouth full. 

“Richie that’s disgusting, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Eddie scolds. “But yeah, Mike, this is delicious.”

“Okay, but wait ‘til you taste the cookies,” Mike gushes. “None of them are burnt.”

Bill beams. “Y-yeah. I can’t believe it, first t-try!”

“You’re doing great, babe,” Stan says, rubbing his boyfriend’s shoulder. 

“So what did you guys do all day?” Bev asks. “Without Richie and I around to entertain you.”

Stan rolls his eyes. “I’m almost done with Detroit Become Human and we did a little bit of puzzling.” 

“Me too,” Bill says. “I’m just started and I’m pretty sure I’m going to finish the game before Stan.”

“No you won’t,” Stan says. “You didn’t finish for me?”

Bill shakes his head. “No. I knew you’d wanna finish yourself.”

Stan smiles and then takes a bite of chicken. “Okay, damn, Mike. Where the hell did you get this recipe?”

Mike blushes. “It’s an old family recipe. I’m glad you guys like it.”

Richie and Bev pour themselves two more bowls of soup each because they were both blessed with extremely fast metabolisms and haven’t eaten all day, so this is like their three meals. Eddie knows they’re undoubtedly snacking throughout the night, but still, he’s glad to see Richie eating. 

“Okay, so this m-m-morning, we were talking a-a-about new shit to watch on N-n-netflix, because frankly, we’ve r-ran out of sh-shit to watch,” Bill says. 

“Yeah?” Bev asks. “And what did you come up with?”

“Disney movie marathon.”

“Hell yeah!” Bev yells. “I am so ready.”

“So I was thinking Little Mermaid, Princess and the Frog, Aladdin-” Ben starts.

“Yes!” Bev screams. “Those are the best movies there are, right Richie?”

“Oh Prince Naveen can get it,” Richie says. Eddie smacks him in the arm. “What? I’m not wrong.”

“Okay but Aladdin,” Bev says. 

“Guys, stop fangirling over Disney princes, Ben isn’t finished with his list,” Stan interrupts. “Continue.”

“Thanks, Stan,” Ben says. “And then Frozen and Frozen II. That’s it.”

“The snow glows white on the mountain tonight,” Richie starts, purposefully off-key. 

“Not a footprint to be seen,” Bev continues. “A kingdom of isolation…”

“And it looks like… I’m the queen,” Richie says dramatically, standing and putting a hand to his forehead. 

“The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside…” says Bev.

“Couldn’t keep it in, heaven knows I tried,” Richie says, nailing the low note. 

Eddie blushes. 

“On s-s-second thought, m-m-maybe we shouldn’t watch F-f-frozen,” Bill says. 

“No, we’ll be quiet we promise!” Bev says, grabbing Richie’s hand. “Pinky swear!” They lock pinkies.

“That means absolutely nothing,” Stan says. “You guys just fucking swore to each other.”

“Exactly. Let it go! Let it go!” Richie screams. 

“Can’t hold it back anymore!” 

“Bill, get the cookies please,” Mike instructs, sighing. 

“Wait are those Target cookies?” Bev asks, stopping her singing for a minute. 

“Wait, like the ones with the super good frosting?” Richie asks. 

“Okay, t-they actually h-have names, y-you guys,” Bill says. “They’re c-c-called lofthouse c-c-cookies, and they’re h-homemade.”

“And not burnt?”

Bill glares at Richie. 

“Sorry, can’t blame a guy for asking.”

“I’m not th-that bad of a cook!” Bill protests. Silence. “I’m g-g-getting better!”

“That’s true, just gimme one of the cookies,” Richie says, reaching over the table to grab one. He takes a bite. “Holy shit.”

“I want one,” Bev says, grabbing one. “Holy shit!” 

“Right?” Bill asks. 

Soon enough, everyone has had multiple of the lofthouse cookies and everyone can agree they are extremely good. 

“What the hell is in these, like nicotine or something?” Richie jokes, grabbing another cookie. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” Eddie says. “That’s your fifth cookie.”

“It’s fine, Eds, there’s still plenty more-”

“I’m talking about your health, dipshit.”

Richie rolls his eyes. “Fine.” He takes a bite of the cookie, which has blue frosting. “Delicious.”

“Okay. Disney movie marathon?” Bev asks, licking frosting off her fingers. 

Ben nods. “If you guys are ready…?”

“What else are we going to do?” Mike asks honestly. 

“I’ll get the blankets!” Richie exclaims, running out of the room. 

Ben grabs the remote and sets up Disney + on the TV while Mike helps Eddie with the dishes. Eddie takes a puff from his inhaler as soon as he sees the sink. 

“It’s okay, Eddie,” Mike says, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“I know,” Eddie says. “It’s just a lot, and I don’t wanna be late or for everyone to be like wow Eddie has to clean, so typical, y’know?”

“It’s okay, we’ll be done in no time.”

Stan comes in to help them out, and soon enough, everyone is on the couch watching The Little Mermaid. Richie and Bev try their best not to sing along, but Eddie graciously tells them it’s alright as long as they remain on-key, which is no big deal. They only ever sing off-key to try to be funny, but when they’re on-key, they actually sound beautiful. Richie will occasionally throw a harmony around, and Part of Your World sounds very pretty. 

The rest of the movies pass by pretty quickly, the couples cuddling closer together with every passing minute. Eddie finds himself drifting off in the middle of Frozen II, vaguely wondering what time it is. Richie gently nudges him awake and then pulls out his phone. It’s 10:35. 

“Like clockwork,” Richie teases, and Eddie sits up, effectively making himself less comfortable and therefore more likely to stay awake. The music also helps, as Anna is now singing a… a very sad song, shit…

“Richie, I don’t like this song,” Eddie mumbles. 

“Me either,” he replies, hugging Eddie close. “It’s okay, though.”

Eddie notices Stan and Bill and Bev and Ben hugging in a similar manner. It comforts him, knowing that they’ve all been through the same shit and are all dealing with it in similar ways. They’re there for each other. 

Elsa and Anna meet up again at the end of the movie, and Eddie almost tears up. 

“Disney got the waterworks going, Eds?” Richie teases. 

“Shut up,” Eddie mumbles. 

“No, it’s okay, Eddie,” Bev says. “That was a good movie.”

“I’m going to my room,” Eddie says, yawning and stretching. 

“Same, I think I’m going to head in,” Mike says after him. 

Eddie looks at Richie.

“What?” 

“What part of ‘come with me’ do you not understand?!”

“You never said-”

“It was implied, dumbass. If I’m going to my room that means come with and snuggle me, okay?”

“Yep. Okay,” Richie says, standing up. He salutes Bev. “See ya later, alligator.”

“In a while, crocodile.”

“You are such a dork,” Eddie says. 

“You love it.”

Eddie brushes his teeth and hair and then throws on one of Richie’s old sweatshirts and a pair of short shorts. 

“Come cuddle me,” he says, hopping into bed.

“I love it when you get like this.” Richie smirks. 

“I’m not any type of way,” Eddie protests.

“Yeah, you are. You’re all cute and tired and on the verge of cranky if I don’t give you what you want-”

“And you will give me what I want, ‘cuz I’ve got you wrapped around my finger.”

“Uhm. Woah, watch yourself there, Eds, I don’t-”

“Get your ass in bed right now or I am not going to stay up all night with you tomorrow.”

Richie gets in bed next to Eddie and starts spooning him immediately. 

Eddie sighs. “Wrapped around my finger,” he mumbles, relaxing into Richie. 

Richie plays with one of Eddie’s loose waves. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” 

Richie lays with his boyfriend for a while longer, playing with his curls and occasionally pressing light kisses to the back of his neck. Eventually he gets bored of staying so still and stands up, tucking Eddie in with their blanket. 

“Woah, did everyone else head out?” Richie asks as he walks back into the living room, Bev laying upside down on the sofa. 

“Apparently,” she replies, sitting up. 

“Cool.”

“Wanna make a Tik Tok?”

“Which one?” Richie asks. 

“The ‘I’m a savage, classy, bougie, ratchet’ one,” Bev replies. “I just finished learning the dance yesterday, while you were raiding the fridge.”

“So it’s not hard?” 

“No, it just took you forever to decide what to eat.”

Richie rolls his eyes and then pulls out his phone. “Fine. But we’re filming it on my account. I seriously need more hype.” 

“That’s fine with me.”

Richie pulls up the audio and then Bev teaches him the dance. It takes him around thirty tries to get it correct, but the end product is completely worth it. 

“We look so good,” Richie says. “Let’s do the ‘can’t take big d’ one, I learned that dance last week.”

“When?” Bev asks. 

Richie shrugs. “Can’t remember.”

“Okay, I’ve known that one for a while now. Your account still?”

Richie nods, and it only takes them about five takes to get the perfect one. While they’re doing Tik Tok dances, they decide to update their renegade ‘duetting this every day of quarantine’ because they hadn’t updated it yet that day. 

“Say so?” Richie asks. 

“Come on, that’s the most boring dance out there. There’s way better Doja Cat songs.”

“Cyber Sex,” they say at the same time, and Richie pulls up the lyric video on YouTube. 

“I wanna touch on you, you see me in my room, wish you were here right now, all of the things I’d do-”

“I know everything I need to know about you!” Bev yells in a horrible British accent. 

“You do?” Richie asks. “Oh… you do.”

They both crack up at that, dancing crazily to the rest of the song. 

Richie plays his Doja Cat playlist, which consists of most of Hot Pink, Candy, and Moo. 

They’re laying on the floor after their spontaneous dance party when Bev takes a lock of Richie’s hair in her hand. 

“Richie, I think you need a haircut.”

Richie grins. “Again? But the last time I got one was last week!”

“Nah… I think you need… I think you need a new color.”

Richie’s eyes go wide. “Eddie’s going to kill me. What color?”

“Pink?” Bev suggests. 

They make their way over to the bathroom. 

“So I’ve got an emergency bottle of ‘in case Ben dumps me’ hair dye-”

Richie snorts. “That would _never_ happen. Not in a million, gazillion years, but continue.” 

“But I will graciously allow you to use it because, have you ever even dyed your hair before?” 

“Nope,” Richie admits. 

Bev smiles. “This is going to be a ride.” She tears open the package without even reading the instructions. She puts on some plastic gloves they have in the bathroom, courtesy of Eddie, and then squirts the pink dye on them. 

Richie holds her hands before they make contact with his head. “Okay, how about, since it’s my first time, and I don’t want Eddie to have a heart attack, we just do a strip? I wanna see you do your whole head.”

“Tozier, are you chicken or something?”

“No, I just… okay first of all, my hair is dark black, and pink isn’t necessarily a good color for that. Second, Eddie’s gonna flip his shit. Third-”

“Okay, I get it, I get it,” Bev says, messing some pink into her hair. “Pick a strand, any strand.”

He holds up a piece of his hair for her to dye and she does.

“Oh, fuck, we should make a Tik Tok, hang on, lemme pull up the ‘just did a bad thing’ sound…” 

“Save some footage so we can get Eddie’s and Ben’s reactions!” Richie says. 

“‘Kay.” 

Richie looks at his reflection. “Damn. Okay, my hair is too dark for this shit.”

“You’re right,” Bev admits. “Hm… we need to bleach it.”

“You’re gonna bleach my hair?” Richie asks. 

“If you want me to,” Bev answers. “We can go to the store… maybe we can even get some ingredients for a cake… I know you’ve had your eye on a few Tik Tok recipes for a while now…”

“Dude, that sounds amazing. Let’s do it.” 

The only store that’s open at this hour is Walgreens, but luckily, they have bleach, another bottle of pink hair dye, and brown sugar, which was the only baking ingredient they didn’t have at home. 

“Pink frosted tips, huh?” Bev asks when they’re back in the bathroom. 

Richie nods. “Just do it.” 

“Don’t worry, you’re going to look amazing.” 

Richie closes his eyes as she works, enjoying the feeling of her fingers on his scalp. 

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

Richie compiles. “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit,” Bev states. “You look great.”

The rest of his head is still black as night, but now he has pink frosted tips, and Bev even styled them up so the curls don’t just sit like a mop on his head. 

“I look… I look like an adult person,” Richie says, awestruck. 

“That you do,” Bev says, proud of her work. “My turn.” She quickly pushes him out of the chair and hands him the bottle of pink hair dye. 

“Sure you don’t wanna go blonde?” Richie asks, holding up the bleach. 

“Enticing, but no thanks. I’ve already tried that look… my eyebrows looked weird.”

“Understandable, but Bev, sweetie. They always look weird.” 

Bev tries to hit him and succeeds, resulting in him spilling hair dye down his shirt. 

“Fuck!” he yells, dipping his fingers in it and then spreading it all over her head.

“Yep, you got it. Just a little more,” Bev encourages him, taking a picture for her SnapChat story. “That’s great.”

Richie sighs. “Who knew spontaneously dying your hair could be this stressful?” 

Bev laughs. “That’s good, Richie. Now we just wait for it to dry, and then we wash it out.”

“And bake a cake?” Richie asks. 

“And bake a cake.”

Bev walks into the kitchen and starts pulling out all the ingredients they’ll need. Richie grabs the mixer. She puts the wet ingredients in there while Richie starts mixing the dry ingredients in a separate bowl. They combine them, and then Richie grabs a spoon and starts eating the batter straight out of the mixing bowl. 

“Richie, save some of it for the cake please,” Bev says, knowing what he’s doing without looking up from her search for a cake pan. 

“What? I’m not doing anything,” he says, mouth full. 

“Unlike you, I’m not a dumbass,” Beverly says, grabbing his spoon and turning around. She takes a lick.

“Bev, you’re going to get fucking corona now,” Richie says, sighing and grabbing a new spoon. 

“No I’m not, there’s no possible way any of us haven’t. We haven’t left the house except for Bill to get groceries and the only person you’ve been swapping spit with is Eddie, and me with Ben so-”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, you’re telling me you and Ben _actually_ kiss? Damn, I never thought the shy kid had it in him-”

“Would you just shut up and help me pour this into the pan, please and thank you?” Beverly asks exasperatedly. 

Richie dips his finger in the batter and has one last lick before pouring the batter into the pan. 

“Okay, can you start on the frosting please?”

“Yes ma’am,” Richie says.

“Don’t call me that, I’m literally 22,” Bev says. “Do you know if we have food coloring?”

“We should, Richie replies, washing out the mixer and then putting a few sticks of softened butter in there. He adds a bit of salt, vanilla, milk and then powdered sugar, and the frosting starts to come together.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” someone shrieks. 

Richie looks up. “Uh… Eddie… hi baby!” he says cheerily.

“What the fuck are you doing?! And is your hair pink?!”

Bev snorts. 

“No, it’s not. This is all a dream. Just go back to bed-”

“It’s not a dream dickwad, if this was a dream you’d be in bed with me, not in the kitchen with pink fucking hair baking a- are you literally baking a fucking cake?! Are you serious right now? You woke me up with the fucking stand mixer of the fucking-” 

“Oh, so you want to take me to bed, Kaspbrak?” Richie jokes. 

“Richie, just shut the fuck up. I’m going to pretend I never saw this.”

“Yep, okay, fine by me.”

Eddie sighs and then walks back to his room, slamming the door.

“Jeez. Remind me to never wake him up.”

“Oh, he’s normally not that bad, it’s just three in the morning, and I have pink hair.”

Bev snorts as the oven beeps. “Shit. How’s that frosting coming along?”

“Pretty good,” Richie replies. “Do we have sprinkles?”

“Yep. You’re lucky I picked some up when we went to Walgreens.”

Bev pulls the cake out of the oven and then turns it over onto a plate. She tips it over onto another plate and then levels it off, eating a piece they aren’t going to use. 

“This is so good,” she tells Richie, handing him a piece.

“Yep. Yellow cake. It doesn’t get any better.” He dips some of it in the frosting and takes another bite. “Wait til we frost it.”

They let the cake cool a little while longer, and then Bev frosts it because Richie is incapable of doing so without licking his fingers every two seconds. 

Richie puts the sprinkles on top and then pours them each a glass of milk. 

“Cheers,” he says, holding up his glass.

“Cheers,” Bev replies, laughing. 

They take a sip. 

“This is organic,” Richie says immediately. “Betcha Eddie told Bill to buy organic milk.”

Bev takes a bite of her cake. “Mm… this is so fucking good.”

“So good,” Richie agrees. “Almost as good as-”

“Beep beep, Richie.”

“But I didn’t even-”

“Beep beep!” Beverly laughs. 

They’re lying on the couch now, the cake safely in the fridge and their mess semi-cleaned up.

“Y’know what I’ve always wanted to do?” Richie voices aloud.

“Hm?” Bev asks. 

“Winged eyeliner.”

“Well, you’ve definitely come to the right girl.” Bev smiles and then runs to the bathroom to get her makeup kit and standing mirror. 

“So, the first rule of winged eyeliner is that they are sisters, not twins,” Bev says, grinning.

“Got it,” Richie nods, a pink curl falling into his eyes. 

“Let me demonstrate, and then I’ll let you try. Don’t worry about messing up, I have plenty of makeup wipes,” Bev reassures him.

She draws her eyeliner on with two, quick, easy strokes. 

“That looked way too easy,” Richie says. 

“Try it.” She hands him the stick. 

He brushes it on, trying to be swift like she was, but his long fingers fail him and he ends up smudging it a little. He laughs. 

“That’s okay, try again,” she says, grabbing a makeup wipe and helping him wipe the smudge away. 

“Okay… that looks decent, right…?” he says a few tries later. “I look like an emo chick from the early 2000s. Especially with this pink hair.” He sighs. “One more try.” He wipes the makeup off and then reapplies in one quick, detail-oriented motion.

“Richie that was perfect!” Bev exclaims. “All you need to do is do it again!”

Richie takes a deep breath and then puts a line of winged eyeliner on his other eye. “Did I do it?”

“You did it!” Bev says, hugging him. 

“I did it!” he exclaims. “I’m so good at this makeup shit. You should let me do your makeup.”

“No, no I shouldn’t,” Bev says, laughing. 

“Yes, you should.”

“No.”

“Ye-”

“Richie, shut up. Let’s watch YouTube.”

“Bev…?” 

“Richie, please don’t-”

“Can we-”

“Richie-”

“Please? They’re only fifteen minutes-”

“You literally almost died last time we did one.”

“Bev, I can do it this time, I promise. Just one fifteen minute Chloe Ting workout?”

Bev sighs. “Fine. But I’m going to laugh at you.”

“I’m going to laugh at me, too.”

The workout starts off with leg raises, which are relatively easy for both Richie and Bev. 

“Glute bridge abduction,” Richie says, laughing his ass off. “Why is that so funny?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you’re literally a child and it says a word for butt?” Bev suggests. 

Richie loses it again. “Fuck. Single leg glute bridge.”

“These are hard,” Bev says, breathing heavily. She’s got sweat dripping down her neck, and some of it is pink. 

“I know something else that’s har-”

“Fuck, Richie!”

“Bev, sweetie, you’re not exactly my ty-”

“Shut up! We forgot to rinse out the hair dye!”

“Yeah, I know. After the fucking work out.”

“Well, I’m kinda sweating…”

“Okay, you can go wash it out,” Richie says. “I’m stuck doing these lateral lunges.”

“Richie, you’re going to get it all over the carpet, and Eddie and Mike are going to flip their actual shit-”

“Bev, there’s three minutes left of the work out,” Richie says, panting. He screams as he falls to the ground, his body giving out on him. “Fuck these stupid noodle legs!”

Bev laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. “Come on. We gotta wash this shit off.”

“But I’m getting a ‘hourglass figure,’” Richie protests.

“One Chloe Ting work out won’t give you an hourglass figure. Come on.” She holds her hand out to help him up, and they head to the bathroom together to wash out the hair dye.

“Dude. You look so good,” Bev says, towel drying her hair. 

“Yeah. Let’s just hope Eddie likes the finished product more than the work in progress,” Richie says, tousling his curls a little. “You look amazing, too, by the way.”

“Oh, I know,” Bev says, tossing her hair. “You don’t need to tell me.”

Richie smiles. “Hey, what time is it?”

“It’s almost six, why?”

“I’m hungry,” he says.

“Richie. You’re never going to get fucking abs if you eat the entire fucking fridge right after you work out!”

“I’m not eating the entire fucking fridge,” Richie says. “I’m getting a snack. I haven’t eaten since three.”

“Wow, three hours, you must be starving,” Bev says sarcastically. 

Richie rolls his eyes and then goes to the kitchen. He grabs the jar of peanut butter he’s been working through for the past week out of the cabinet, along with a spoon. Bev steals the spoon and takes a bite for herself, handing it right back afterward. He sticks out his tongue at her. 

“You are such a child,” she says. 

He just rolls his eyes and turns on the TV. “What do you wanna watch?” 

“Fashion videos?”

“Why not?”

They watch a mix of fashion YouTubers for a while, and Richie finishes the peanut butter. He puts it back in the cabinet absentmindedly, yawning as he watches the sun peek out over the horizon. 

“Bev, look,” he says. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she replies. She stretches. “Richie, I think I’m going to head in.”

“And abandon me?” he says, making a sad face at her. 

“I’m not abandoning you.” She scoffs. “I’m just going to bed with my boyfriend. You have a boyfriend, too. I bet he’d love it if you joined him for a few hours.”

“Nah, he’s just about to wake up. I’ll betcha he comes walking out here in a few minutes-”

“Good morning,” Eddie says cheerily, walking out of his room and lacing up his running shoes. 

“Good night,” Bev replies, walking into her and Ben’s shared room. 

Eddie laughs. “Woah, your hair is still pink.”

“Yeah. What do you think?”

“I remember freaking out about it, and now that I’ve done that, I think… I think it suits you. You look cute, babe.”

“Thanks,” Richie says, blushing. Eddie doesn’t tell him that a lot. It’s mostly the other way around.

“Yeah…” Eddie says. He runs a hand through Richie’s hair. “Did you go to bed last night?”

Richie shakes his head.

“Richie.”

“I’m goin’ to bed now,” he says, turning over on the couch and pulling the throw blanket over himself. “See?”

“But it’s already morning,” Eddie says. “That kinda ruins the point?”

“Nah, nah, it’s completely fine.”

Richie yawns.

“Your melatonin is all fucked up,” Eddie says. 

“I’m fine,” Richie protests. 

Ben walks into the living room. “Good morning, guys.”

“Good night,” Richie replies, rolling over to face the couch. 

“That’s exactly what Bev said,” Ben says, laughing. “What are we going to do with these two?”

“Did they tell you about their plans for tonight?” Eddie asks, once they’re on the road and in at a light, jogging pace. 

“Not yet, no,” Ben says. “Should I be worried?”

“They want us to stay up with them. Like a quarantine double date.”

“That’s cute. How late?” Ben asks. 

“We’re not going to bed,” Eddie replies, almost laughing. 

“Oh. Hm. I don’t… I mean, if Bev wants to then, okay, I guess…”

“Richie told me it’ll be fun. And I have to admit, I am a little curious as to what they spend their time doing, besides dying their hair pink.”

“Oh, yeah. I noticed they did that.”

“What do you think?”

“Bev looks amazing,” Ben gushes, blushing a little bit. “Richie looks pretty cool, too.”

“Yeah. I have to admit, I freaked out a bit at first, but Richie looks kinda hot.” Eddie blushes. “Do _not_ tell him I said that.”

“I won’t,” Ben says, offering up his pinky for a pinky swear. 

The rest of their run is relatively quiet, and neither of them mind it that day. 

“Fuck, we’re out of Honey Bunches of Oats,” Eddie says. 

“That’s okay,” Ben replies. “How about some peanut butter toast? And a banana?”

“Okay.” Eddie pops a couple pieces of bread into the toaster and then takes the peanut butter out of the cabinet. It feels uncharacteristically light. He opens it. “Okay, who the hell ate all the peanut butter and then put it back? It wasn’t like this last night.”

Ben shrugs. 

Eddie immediately walks into the other room. “It was Richie,” he states, looking at his dumbass of a boyfriend, who is deeply asleep, one lanky arm hanging off the edge of the couch, glasses slipping low on the bridge of his nose as he mutters something about cows and… a rapper from Tik Tok? Eddie is so angry right now, he could scream. What kind of a person eats the last of something and then puts it back in the fucking cabinet? Apparently his boyfriend, that’s who.

“Woah, Eddie, calm down there, buddy,” Ben says, placing a calming hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Eddie takes a deep breath. “Yes. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’ll… I’ll get him back later.”

“Okay…” Ben chuckles a little bit. “There’s another can of peanut butter in the spare cabinet, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says, still glaring at Richie. 

He eventually walks back into the kitchen to finish making and eating his toast and bananas. He washes the couple of dishes that have somehow accumulated in the sink and then waits for everyone else to get up. While he’s doing that, he tidies up the living room and his and Richie’s room a little bit, dusting, folding clothes and blankets, and fluffing up pillows. Once everyone besides Bev and Richie are awake, he pulls out the vacuum.

“Eddie, you’re going to wake him up,” Mike points out, ever the sweetheart. 

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point,” Eddie says tightly, plugging in the vacuum. 

“What did he do this time?” Stan asks. 

“The motherfucker ate all the peanut butter and then put it back!” 

“Low b-blow,” Bill says, wincing. 

“Yeah.”

“Is this your revenge?” Ben asks, laughing slightly.

“Yep,” Eddie says, popping the ‘p’ and turning on the vacuum. Much to his satisfaction, Richie startles almost immediately and turns away from him, yanking the blankets over his head.

“Seriously, Eds?”

“It’s not my fault you decide to sleep on the couch, in the middle of the fucking day!” 

“Can you at least wait until after dinner to vacuum?” 

“Can you not eat all the peanut butter and put it back in the fucking cabinet? Like, who the hell does that?”

“Should we…” Mike starts. 

“Nah, leave them alone, they’ll work it out,” Stan tells him, going back to their puzzle.

“I’m sorry, it was like 6am and I forgot okay?!”

“You forgot the jar of peanut butter you just finished was empty? I know you’re a dumbass Richie, but you’re not stupid!”

“I’m sorry!” Richie exclaims. 

Eddie turns up the intensity of the vacuum and Richie puts a pillow over his head. 

“Would you please cut it out? I'm really, really tired,” Richie says quietly, but Eddie hears him, even over the roar of the vacuum. 

Eddie turns off the vacuum and sighs. “Yeah. I’m just… I just got really angry ‘cuz like that’s such a stupid thing to do-”

Richie yawns. “Sorry, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry for eating all the peanut butter and then putting it back.”

“I’m sorry for waking you up with a very loud vacuum cleaner, even though we have a perfectly good bedroom for you to sleep in with a real bed but you choose this clunky couch every single day.”

“H-h-hey!” Bill says. “I love that couch.”

Richie shrugs, pulling off his glasses. “Listening to you guys argue puts me to sleep, I guess.”

Eddie snorts. “Of course it does.”

“C’mere,” Richie says, holding out his long arms. 

“Aw,” Stan starts, mockingly. 

“Not a word,” Eddie hisses. 

Richie doesn’t catch that last part, he’s already falling back asleep into Eddie’s shoulder. 

“Oh jeez. I’m stuck here now, aren’t I?” Eddie asks nobody in particular.

“Yep,” Mike says, and everyone else agrees.

“Okay, uhm… _fuck_. Richie, I can’t lay here all day, I-”

“Eds… why did the- that’s so _fucking_ stupid. No, no, no, no. Listen to me. The apples go over there, and the mangoes go in the other _fucking_ basket. These motherfuckers…” Richie trails off. “Never, you never- oh my gosh would you _shut_ up?”

Eddie snickers because nobody is talking. “Are you guys hearing this?”

Stan nods, a small smile on his face. Everyone else is struggling not to laugh.

“Richie, what’s going on?” Eddie asks his boyfriend quietly, turning around. 

“Eds… these people are idiots, and _fuck_! They’re mixing up the vegetables with the fruits… I like bananas, did you know that? They’re a super… good… fruit… apples are good too, sometimes, mhm… I think I’m going to…”

“Hold on, hold on, lemme try something,” Stan says. “Hey Richie? Beep beep.”

Richie looks mildly confused for a minute, but he doesn’t say anything else.

“Holy shit. How the hell did you do that? I’ve suffered for weeks trying to get him to shut up, and nothing ever seemed to-”

“Be q-q-quiet or he’ll think y-you’re in his dream a-again,” Bill says, laughing. He walks over to the couch and helps Eddie up. 

“Thank you,” Eddie whispers. He straightens out his shirt and then walks into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. 

“Hey, Eddie, where did the brown sugar go?” Mike asks, around dinner time. He made meatloaf tonight, and found a recipe for a sauce that requires brown sugar.

“I got hungry,” Richie answers, walking into the kitchen and running a hand through his unruly hair. 

“I’m sorry what?” Mike asks. “Did I hear that correctly?”

“I-isn’t your d-d-dad a d-d-dentist?”

Richie nods. 

“You’re telling me that you ate sugar straight out of the bag,” Eddie states, looking Richie directly in the eye. 

“Yep.” Richie nods. “Now move, I’d like a cutie please, and as cute as you are, you’re not exactly… an orange?” 

Eddie laughs and tosses his boyfriend a cutie. 

Bev follows Ben into the kitchen a bit later. “Good morning, guys.”

“Good afternoon,” Eddie replies. 

Bev steals a slice of Richie’s cutie and then sits down next to Ben at the dinner table. 

They have dinner, and then watch a couple movies together before people start retreating to their rooms. 

Bev claps her hands. “Okay. The final four.”

“Jeez, what is this, a death ritual or something?” Eddie jokes. 

Richie laughs. “Not quite.”

“I did some research earlier this morning, while Richie was raiding the fridge.”

“Why does everything interesting happen when I’m raiding the fridge?” Richie asks. 

“I do not know,” Bev says dramatically. “Anyway, I have figured out how to do stick and poke tattoos! Who wants one?”

“Me!” Richie exclaims.

“Uhm. Absolutely not,” Eddie says. 

Bev pulls out her materials. “Luckily, because Eddie happens to be a doctor, we had all this shit lying around. I think it’d be cute if we got like… a matching shape or something, Ben? What do you think?” 

Ben blushes. “That would be cool…”

“Eddie, what about you?”

“I said, absolutely not. And I’m not a doctor.”

“Come on, Eds, that’s no fun!” Richie protests, but Eddie is stubborn.

“No.”

“Eddie, please.”

“No.” 

“Please?”

“No.” 

“Please?”

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“No!”

Bev nearly falls over laughing. “Eddie, how about something small, like a triangle?”

“You think I want some triangle shit on my hand for the rest of my life?” Eddie asks. “No thank you. Richie, I’d prefer if you don’t get one, but at the end of the day… I really don’t care. But I’m not getting one. You guys go wild.”

Bev shrugs. “Okay. Richie, what do you want?”

“Gimme your finest triforce, please,” Richie requests. 

Ben and Eddie watch Bev work, and much to Eddie’s surprise, the triforce doesn’t come out half-bad.

“Did it hurt, Richie?” Eddie asks.

“Nah,” Richie says, but his ankle is a tiny bit red.

Next, Ben and Bev get matching hearts on the insides of their wrists. 

“That’s adorable,” Richie comments.

Ben blushes as Bev grabs his hand.

“Okay, so what else do you guys normally do besides dying each other’s hair and wrecking your skin?” Eddie asks. 

“We also wreck our bodies,” Richie says suggestively.

“Ugh, Richie, you’re disgusting. We work out,” Bev clarifies. 

“So this girl’s name is Chloe Ting?” Eddie asks, as Richie turns on the TV.

“Yep,” Richie answers. “And she’s about to destroy your muscles.”

“Don’t forget we’re the ones who run every day, Richie,” Eddie reminds him. “I think we can take it.”

Ben shrugs. “We’ll see.”

“Holy _shit,_ ” Eddie breathes, as he falls right on his ass during the last exercise.

“Told ya,” Richie says, breathing heavily. “Ben how are you still standing?”

Ben shrugs. “I’ve been lifting weights with Mike, I guess.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says again. “I need a drink.”

“Great idea, Eds. I’ll go mix some-”

“I meant water, you idiot.”

“Later,” Richie whispers, as he leaves. “Later.”

Bev shoves his shoulder. “You’re such a dumbass, you know that?”

“I think he knows?” Ben asks. 

“Ben! I’m shocked at this outward display of meanness!” Richie yells dramatically. 

“Sh! You’ll wake everyone up!” Eddie says, handing each of them a cup of water. 

Eventually, they cool down from their work out. 

“You know I wasn’t kidding about mixing drinks, right?” Richie asks. 

“Rich, I don’t feel like getting drunk tonight-” Eddie starts.

“Then only have a glass.”

“Yeah, but I’m-”

“You’re what?” Richie asks. “A lightweight?”

Bev snorts.

“No. You know what? Fuck you. Go, go make us drinks or whatever.”

“Eddie, you don’t have to drink if you don’t want to,” Ben says gently.

“Nah, it’s good. It’s not like I have anywhere to go.” Eddie sighs.

Richie comes back with a few sweet drinks, and he passes them out to his friends. 

“To quarantine?”

“To quarantine, even though it fucking sucks,” Bev replies. 

They all drink. Eddie feels warm already as the alcohol slips down his throat and makes its way through his system. Sometimes, he hates the fact that he’s a lightweight, but then he remembers that Richie is too, and that makes it much more bearable.

“Hey, Richie,” Eddie says. “You can’t tease me for being a fucking lightweight anymore, ‘cuz you’re one, too.”

Bev laughs.

“No, I’m not,” Richie replies. “I could outdrink all of you.”

“Sure,” Bev says, rolling her eyes. 

“But, like, let’s not try that?” Ben says, though it comes out as a question.

Richie rolls his eyes and takes another sip. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Omg, you know what we should do?” Bev asks the group.

“Did you seriously just say ‘omg’ out loud?” Eddie asks with a completely straight face.

“Yes, pay attention Eddie,” Bev says, unphased. 

“What should we do, Beverly?” Ben asks. 

“We should take a photoshoot!”

“Yes!” Richie exclaims.

“No…” Eddie mutters.

“Eddie, it’ll be fun.”

“That’s what you said about tonight,” Eddie mumbles, taking a sip from his drink. 

“Eddie, come on. Please?” Ben asks. 

“Yeah, please?” Richie gives him the puppy dogs eyes. 

“Ugh. Fine.”

One more drink in and both he and Richie are _completely_ gone. Bev sets up some fairy lights as a background for their photoshoot, and then grabs a couple of masks so they’ll always remember this photoshoot was taken during a global pandemic. 

“Okay, Eddie, smile,” Bev says, taking a snapshot with her polaroid camera. He grins at her, a few curls loose on his forehead. He looks so genuinely happy. “Okay, now try one with the mask. Yes! You got it now!” 

Eddie giggles as she hypes him up, adjusting the mask sloppily on his face with drunk fingers. “Richie, get in here.”

“Okay, okay. Eddie… you’re so pretty… has anyone ever told you that you’re so pretty?” 

Bev grins at Ben. “They’re such lightweights.” She snaps a few pictures of them just looking at each other, and another when Eddie starts laughing so hard he can’t breathe because of a joke Richie just told him. 

Richie looks at one of the pictures Bev took. “Damn. I am a _snack_. It’s a shame everyone here is on a diet.”

“I’m not,” Eddie pipes up, hiccuping slightly. 

Richie grins, and then kisses him. 

“Okay, okay, our turn, our turn,” Bev says, handing off the camera to Richie. She brushes her dress off and fluffs it around her, holding Ben’s hand as they smile at the camera. She leans back into his arms, feeling safe and comforted. She tilts her head up to give him a quick kiss, and hears a satisfying click as that moment is caught on camera forever. Ben laughs a little as her hair tickles his cheek, and Richie snaps another picture. 

“Looking good, guys,” he says, smiling. Eddie is playing with one of his curls, looking very distracted. 

“Okay, I’m going to go get some water,” Ben says, when Richie puts the camera down. “Do you guys want anything?”

“Can I have another drink, Ben, my good sir?” Richie asks, his glasses falling down his nose. Eddie pushes them back up, giggling. 

“I think you’ve had enough,” Bev says. “May I also have a cup of water? And an apple please?”

“Of course.”

Bev hangs up the polaroids on clips next to the fairy lights while Eddie and Richie talk. She can’t help listening in on their conversation. 

“Eddie, you’re so pretty. I love your freckles so _fucking_ much.”

“I like your face,” Eddie says, giggling. 

Bev snorts and pulls out her phone, wanting to capture this on film.

“Eddie, I’m going to marry the ever-loving shit out of you one day, you know that?”

Eddie gasps. “Really? ‘Cuz I just love you so much…”

“I love you, too. And I’m gonna marry you. Did I mention that?”

Eddie giggles. “Maybe once or twice. Wait…? How are you going to marry me? Social distancing, Richard.”

“Fuck corona. She needs to stop spreading because nobody wants her like that! I’m husbanding you up.”

Bev laughs as Ben hands her the water and her apple, and she munches on it happily, finishing hanging up the polaroids.

“I’m glad you guys live here…” Richie announces. “And not in a place that isn’t here.”

Bev giggles. “You too, Tozier.”

“Guys, I really don’t think I’m drunk yet,” Eddie says, standing up. 

Richie catches him before he can fall, but he almost ends up on the floor as well. They both start giggling. 

“What should we do?” Ben whispers.

Bev shrugs. “They look like they wanna dance. Do you…?”

Ben nods, pulling out his phone. Put Your Head On My Shoulder starts playing, and Bev immediately falls into his arms. 

Richie and Eddie stop giggling for a minute, just looking into each other’s eyes. They fall all over each other for a minute, finally figuring out how to dance with their drunken limbs. 

“We’re so cute,” Bev whispers in Ben’s ear.

He nods, feeling so lucky to be there with her and two of his best friends. 

The song ends, and Richie and Eddie fall back on the couch, giggling and kissing each other.

“Should we get them some water?” Ben asks, his and Bev’s drinks forgotten on the coffee table. 

“Probably,” she answers. 

He comes back with a few glasses of water, but sets them on the coffee table instead of handing them to Richie and Eddie.

“Bev,” Ben whispers. 

“Hm?” she asks, looking up. 

“Look.”

Bev turns around to see Eddie, asleep on Richie’s shoulder, and Richie looking at him with such _pure_ adoration in his eyes, she thinks he’s going to cry. 

“Give me my camera please,” she whispers. She quickly takes a picture, and then shakes the polaroid and sets it on a shelf, so she’ll be able to get it in the morning.

Richie notices Bev looking at him. “Isn’t he cute?” he asks. “He tried so hard to stay up all night.” He giggles, brushing a piece of hair out of Eddie’s eyes. “I should carry him to bed… that’d be really romantic…”

“Richie, you aren’t carrying anybody right now.”

Richie’s face falls. “Okay…”

“Here, come with me. I wanna show you something.” Bev grabs his hand and takes him to the bathroom. “You keep going on and on about how pretty Eddie is… and he is, he really is, but I think you fail to realize your own beauty.”

Richie looks taken aback. “I-”

“Let me finish. I just… I need to get this off my chest. You and Eddie are equally beautiful, and I don’t think you appreciate yourself enough. Your hair is so big and beautiful, and your eyelashes are so full and long, and you have freckles, too, maybe even more than Eddie does?” 

Richie just stares at her, mouth wide open. “Thank you, Beverly. Thank you… I-”

“I’ve noticed Eddie doesn’t really express it as much as you do… but he thinks these things, too. Trust me. He’s just… a whole hell of a lot more subtle than you are.”

“Ya think?” Richie asks. 

Bev nods, brushing a loose curl out of his eyes. “I know.”

Richie grins. “I love him so much, Beverly.”

“I know you do. And he loves you, too.”

Richie looks up. “Betcha you love Ben just as much, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” Bev says. “I love him a lot.”

“And he loves you, too,” Richie says, repeating her words from earlier. “A wise woman said that to me once.”

“Dumbass,” Bev says, smacking the back of his neck. “What time is it?”

“Six…” he trails off. “We should go to sleep.”

“Richard Tozier? Is that you? Did you just suggest we go to bed at six am during quarantine?”

“No, actually, it’s Dick Toaster,” Richie jokes. He yawns. “Yeah, Bev. Sorry, but I’m abandoning you tonight.”

Bev rolls her eyes. “Okay, back to the living room we go. I love you, Tozier.”

“Love you, too, Marsh.”

She loves that they don’t even have to clarify it’s as friends. They just have that strong of a relationship with each other and with their significant others… they just know. Speaking of said significant others.

“They shouldn’t be on their backs, should they?” Richie asks.

“Nope,” Bev answers, tapping Ben on the shoulder and then pulling him up and walking back to their bedroom.

Richie can’t find it in himself to wake Eddie, so he just situates himself on the couch behind him so they’re spooning, and both lying on their side. 

* * *

“They’re idiots,” Mike says, looking down at Richie and Eddie, who are both sound asleep and half-hanging off the couch. 

“Yeah, but you have to admit, they’re c-c-cute t-t-together,” Bill admits. 

Stan grimaces. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“What? It’s true.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean I want to hear it.”

“We should get them to bed,” Mike says. 

“What?” Stan asks again. “They are.”

“No, I mean like an actual bed. Eddie’s going to freak out about a sore neck or something-”

“Yeah, y-y-you’re right,” Bill says. “ _Richie._ Eddie, wake up.”

Eddie sniffs and rolls over, picking his arm up off the floor and hugging Richie. 

“Go away, _Mom_ …” Richie mumbles. 

“Richie, wake up.”

Richie blinks open his eyes. “Hi.”

“H-hi,” Bill replies. “You gu-guys should g-g-go to b-bed.”

“In your room,” Stan adds.

“At the same time,” Mike finishes. 

“Yeah. Uhm… okay,” Richie says nodding. “Yeah. That makes sense?” He rouses Eddie briefly, who grabs Richie’s hand and then leans on him all the way back to their room. 

“So are we the only ones who are awake during the day now?” Mike asks. 

“I guess.” Stan shrugs.

“Five b-bucks that i-in a f-f-few hours, Eddie wakes up and starts flipping out.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Sure enough, at two o’clock that afternoon, Eddie wakes up and drags Richie out of bed with him, so they can ‘get back on the same and normal schedule.’

Richie doesn’t mind too much. 

He’s… he’s missed Eddie. 

Spending time with him last night has shown him that. 

And spending time with all the Losers throughout these past few weeks has shown him how much he truly loves each and every one of his best friends. 

And he can’t believe he’s saying this, but maybe… maybe quarantine isn’t so bad after all.


	3. finals week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finals week is rough  
> that's all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo what's up?  
> it's been a while... if you're reading lover or iwheo i'm sorry about the lack of updates! i am working on it, haha :) if you're not reading lover or iwheo... maybe give them a read? :)  
> anyway  
> this is dedicated to finals week because it's that time of year again
> 
> featuring:  
> mike and ben having their shit together  
> richie losing his adhd meds and using caffeine as a substitue because logic?  
> stan and eddie absolutely freaking out  
> bev vibing with her art in the background  
> bill writing fifty million essays
> 
> anyway  
> thanks for the comments and kudos so far, they mean the world to me <3  
> also... sorry if this absolutely sucks. this is kinda crack fic, but like... idk. i feel like this is worse than the other two one-shots from some reason?  
> i hope you enjoy the fic!

“Last day before hell week,” Richie states, walking up behind the couch. “What should we do, Homeschool?” 

Mike rolls his eyes. “Richie, we go to the same college, and you’re still going to call me Homeschool?”

Richie nods, loose curls falling into his eyes. “Eddie, my love, what shall we do to celebrate our last night of freedom before hell week?”

“Jeez, Rich, you’re acting like it’s tech week,” Eddie says absently, not looking up from his study guide. 

“Oh, which is worse, t-t-tech week or finals w-w-week?” Bill asks, intrigued.

Bev and Richie look at each other. “Tech week,” they reply in unison. 

“No way that’s as bad as this is about to be,” Stan says, bookmarking a page in his textbook.

“Last time, I lost my voice for the entire week,” Richie says, sitting down on the couch next to Mike and grabbing the remote off the coffee table. “I only just got it back the day before opening night. Remember that?”

“How could I forget?” Stan asks sarcastically. “Sweet, blissful, silence.”

Eddie snorts. 

“No, seriously guys, I’m bored…” Richie complains. 

“Study,” Ben supplies from where he’s seated at the dining room table with Bev. 

“Nah… I’m just gonna cram the night before.”

“Richie, you can’t-” Eddie starts. 

“It’s fine,” Richie cuts in. He browses through Netflix for a minute. “So… does anyone wanna rewatch Riverdale, or…?”

“That show was good the first two seasons but now… I don’t really know what’s going on,” Ben comments, shrugging. 

“Okay, then we can watch the first two seasons-”

“Here’s an idea: how about we go to bed while we still can,” Eddie suggests.

Bev laughs. “You say that like we’re going to die or something.”

“If high school finals week was anything like college finals week is going to be-”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Bev says, closing up her computer. “Here, Richie, I’ll watch Riverdale with you.”

Everyone slowly migrates to the dining room table to study while Bev and Richie watch Riverdale. 

Ben and Eddie eventually join their significant others, Bev cuddling up against Ben and Eddie cuddling up against Richie. 

“We’re g-going to b-b-bed,” Bill says, walking through the living room holding Stan’s hand. 

“Try not to make too much noise!” Richie calls after him, snickering. 

Stan gives him the finger.

“What episode are you guys on?” Mike asks, sitting down on the side of the couch opposite Ben and Bev. 

“Two,” Bev replies easily. 

“Season one?”

“Yeah,” Richie says. “Have you seen this show yet?” 

Mike shakes his head. “Is it good?” 

“Eh.” Richie makes a so-so motion. 

“It’s dramatic,” Ben offers. 

Mike laughs, and finishes out the episode with them before retreating back to his room. 

Eddie yawns. “Richie, what time is your first final?” he asks, sitting up. 

“Uh… eight o’clock I think…?”

“What day?” 

“Monday. Tomorrow. And then I have two on Wednesday, one Thursday, and one Friday. What about you guys?” He turns to address Ben and Bev, as well as his boyfriend. 

“I have one tomorrow, early in the morning,” Ben starts. “And one Friday? I think. I have to check. But I’ve been studying hard for them, so I should be fine.”

“Only two?” Bev asks. 

Ben nods. 

“Lucky,” Richie says. 

Ben shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. You guys will be fine, though. You’re all super smart, I’m sure you’ll ace the tests.”

“I have four projects, all due Friday morning, all on different forms of fashion, silhouettes, and… there’s a painting project in there somewhere…? Prepare to be up late Thursday night as my models.”

“When are we ever prepared?” Eddie asks, laughing. “You drag us out of bed at three in the morning for a last minute project, and half the time, it’s not even for a grade!” 

“Hey! I got an A on the last one that was for a grade!” Bev protests, smiling. “What about your finals, Eddie?” 

“Ben and I have the same early morning one tomorrow, Biology, and then I have one Tuesday, two Wednesday, and two Friday. The group project for English counts as the final, though.” 

Richie ruffles Eddie’s hair. “You’re going to ace all of ‘em, I know it. And are you okay with it being a group project.”

“Yes, the people I’m working with are nice and smart. And I wouldn’t be so sure…” Eddie trails off. “We should go to bed.”

“It’s eleven,” Richie states. 

“Exactly,” Eddie says, standing up. “Come on.” He holds out his hand and helps Richie off the couch. “Goodnight, guys.” 

Ben and Bev wave half-heartedly. 

Eddie pulls on one of Richie’s hoodies and a pair of flannel pajama pants. 

“You look so good in my clothes,” Richie comments, pulling on his own pajama pants and taking off his shirt. 

Eddie blushes. “Thanks.”

“And you look even cuter blushing. Damn.”

“Shut up,” Eddie says, walking into the bathroom to hide the fact he’s gone an even deeper shade of pink. They’ve been dating for a little over a year now, and Richie still manages to make him blush. Eddie brushes his teeth, washes his face, and then walks back into the bedroom. 

Richie’s sprawled out on his stomach, taking up more than his fair share of space. Eddie sighs and then nudges him gently. 

“Mm…” Richie groans. 

“Go brush your teeth, dumbass,” Eddie says, turning off the light and lying down. Richie gets up and does what Eddie says. “And take off your glasses.” 

There’s mild rustling of blankets as Richie gets comfortable again. “I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you, too.” 

* * *

Monday is rough.

Mondays are always rough, but this one especially. 

Richie wakes up feeling tired, which is one of the worst feelings in the entire world. He picks up his phone, finding that he has just enough time to eat a bowl of Lucky Charms and re-read the Algebra notes one last time, which he really should’ve done last night. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles, as he realizes he has no clue what Chapter 11 was over. He throws on a hoodie and grabs his textbook to read through it while he eats breakfast.

“Good morning, Richie,” Ben says cheerily, handing him a cup of coffee. 

“Hi,” Richie says, not looking up from his notes. He shovels a few bites of cereal in his mouth and then puts his dish in the sink. “Aw, shit… how does… how do you factor a difference of two squares?”

Ben sits down next to him. “X squared minus 25… so that would be x minus 5 in parentheses, and then x plus 5 in parentheses next to that.”

“But… wouldn’t that make it a trinomial?”

“No, because the negative 5x and positive 5x will cancel each other out.”

Richie nods, pretending to get it, and trying to hide his internal panic. “Yep, okay, I’ll remember that. Thank you for the coffee!” 

He leaves the house in somewhat of a rush, wearing slides with no socks, and realizing he really needs to clip his toenails. He’ll probably have time after this final. If he’s not too busy studying his ass off for the next one. 

He really should’ve studied last night instead of watching Riverdale. He’s going to fail this fucking thing. 

He’s going to-

He wipes at his eyes.

He needs to calm down. 

He reaches Building 2, Room 23 faster than he thought he would. He has half of the huge study guide left to go through, and he’s got two minutes ‘til eight. He hopes Professor Meyer gives them a little bit of study time. 

The tests are already out on everyone’s desks when he walks into the room.

“Good morning class,” Professor Meyer says, way too brightly for this early in the morning. “Study guides away, please and thank you.” 

Richie looks at the front side one last time before shoving his study guide into his backpack. He sighs, bouncing his leg and preparing himself for the worst. 

He taps his fingers on the table lightly, realizing he forgot to take his ADHD medication that morning. 

This is going to be hell. 

“You will have eighty minutes to complete the final. I will update you when you have forty minutes left, twenty, ten, and five. If you have any questions, please wait until you have skipped over those questions on the test and then come to me when you’ve finished to the best of your abilities. You may begin.” 

Richie opens the packet and clicks his mechanical pencil, leg still bouncing uncontrollably. He puts a hand on his knee to try to calm himself, but it doesn’t work. 

_Just take the damn test_ , he thinks. _Fuck._

A kid behind him sniffles, and he hears the clock tick as each second passes by. He counts out sixty seconds, wasting a minute of the eighty he has to complete this fifty question test. 

He tentatively glances at the first question. 

It’s a simplifying square roots question, which is… easy enough. He quickly works it out in his head, and then writes down the answer, making sure to add the work next to it. 

That wasn’t so bad. 

The tightness in his chest subsides as he makes his way through the first few pages of the packet, and then Professor Meyer calls forty minutes. He is definitely not halfway through the test, so he speeds up the work in his head. His handwriting becomes a little messier, but by the time Professor Meyer calls five minutes, he’s only got five problems left. He barely finishes the test in time, but somehow turns it in with the illusion of confidence.

He’s definitely not freaking out about how he completely failed Algebra as a freshman in college, and is now never going to get a career in comedy, a career path that doesn’t require math at all. Somehow the school tricked him into taking a math course before he knew he didn’t have to, and now it’s going to affect his fucking GPA. 

He stops at Starbucks on the way home, picking up a Pink Drink for Eddie and a cake pop for Bev, because they both have sweet spots for those things. 

“Whatcha working on, Eds?” Richie asks, hugging his boyfriend from behind. The coffee calms his nerves a little bit, and he hands Eddie the Pink Drink with minimally shaking hands. 

“Paper for Psychology,” Eddie replies, not even looking up. “And after this I have a history paper. Both due tonight. So, minimal distractions please?”

“Wow, not even a thank you for your favorite Starbucks drink? I see how it is,” Richie jokes, handing Bev her cake pop. “What are you working on?” 

She looks up from her sketchbook. “A design for my portfolio. I already have the fabric and the pattern… they just need me to make a prewrite of sorts, for… some reason? I don’t know, they want to see the design process. Which is dumb. The design process goes on in my brain.”

“Okay, well, if you need a model, I’m all yours.”

“Cool,” Bev says, going back to her work. 

“It’s so quiet,” Richie complains, falling onto the couch. “Hey, Mike.”

“Hi, Richie. How are you?” 

“Fine, I guess.” Richie fixes his glasses. “Where are Stan, Bill, and Ben?” 

“Stan and Bill are taking a final and Ben is finishing a project in his room, I think.” 

Richie turns on Riverdale and starts bouncing his leg. “Mike. I need you to tell me to study. Please.”

Mike turns off the TV. “Go study.” 

Richie shakes his head, putting a hand on his knee. 

“Rich, did you take your meds this morning?” 

“Uh-huh,” Richie lies, standing up. “Going to study now.” 

He completely trashes his and Eddie’s room looking for his ADHD medication, and is not successful in finding it. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He pulls out his laptop, looking at his schedule. 

He’s got a presentation on Wednesday. He opens the PowerPoint he started last week, and works on it for a while before getting hungry. 

“Staniel! Billiam! You’re home,” Richie says exaggeratedly, hugging each of his friends as he enters the kitchen to make a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich. 

“Yeah, yeah. C-chemistry final beat the s-s-shit out of me, th-though,” Bill says. 

Stan is quiet.

“Are you okay, Stan?” Richie asks. 

“I failed. I know I failed. I just know it,” Stan states, looking at the ground. “I studied my ass off and what difference does it make? I stayed up all night and I still fucking failed!” 

Eddie flinches, looking up from his Psych paper. “Is everything-”

“I failed. I’m going to go study,” Stan says quietly, leaving the room. 

“He’s t-t-tired,” Bill stutters out. “He didn’t go to bed last night. Just kept r-r-reading and re-reading the s-s-study guide, and I k-k-know he aced the hell out of that t-t-test. It’s just a-a-anxiety getting the b-better of h-him.” 

Eddie bites his lip, hoping he doesn’t get to that point. He just wants to get through this week, and then cuddle on the couch with Richie and eat pizza on Friday night. Is that too much to ask?

Richie finishes making his sandwich. “That sucks. How many more tests does he have?”

“Four,” Bill answers. “I s-should g-go. I have a p-p-paper to write, and he n-n-needs company.” 

Richie shrugs and takes a bite of his sandwich.

“Richie, how the hell are you even eating that right now? That’s not fueling at all. That’s basically all sugar, you’re going to fucking crash and burn in an hour and a half, and-”

“Woah, relax, Eddie, it’s got peanut butter,” Richie says softly, pouring a glass of water for himself, and then one for his boyfriend. “Bev, do you want water?” 

She holds up her already full water bottle in response.

“I know, but how do you put fucking marshmallows on a sandwich?” 

“I don’t know. I just do, okay?” Richie’s getting mildly annoyed. He just wants to eat his fucking sandwich. 

“Guys, calm down,” Bev says. “I’m trying to focus. Richie, I’m going to need you to model in like… thirty minutes.” 

“For how long?” Richie asks. 

Mike frantically runs into the room. “I need a calculator,” he says, all in one breath. “I need a calculator!” he repeats, a little more urgent. 

“Uh… shit, Mike,” Richie says, feeling the pockets of his hoodie for a nonexistent calculator. 

“Online math final?” Bev asks. 

Mike nods. “Please, somebody give me a calculator!” 

Richie runs to his room and pulls a calculator out of the desk drawers he searched for his ADHD meds earlier that morning. 

“Calculator, at your service,” Richie says in a terrible British accent, bowing down to Mike. 

Mike takes it out of his hand and then runs off, presumably back to his room. 

“Lucky. He gets to take his finals in bed,” Richie says, polishing off the rest of his sandwich.

“Would you shut up? I can’t write with everyone being so loud!” 

“Maybe you should finish your finals in bed, too,” Richie huffs, immediately regretting what he said when Eddie ups and leaves. “Fuck. I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, you are,” Bev agrees. “Model time.” 

“Bev…” Richie whines for the fourth time that minute. “Can we be done now? My arms are tired and I have to finish a presentation due tomorrow.”

“Is it due tomorrow, or is it due Wednesday? You said you didn’t have any finals Tuesday,” Bev mumbles, a pin in her mouth. She pins the sleeves of the shirt closed around Richie’s skinny arms. 

“Wednesday, but I’d like to get it done tonight so I can practice it tomorrow, and maybe study some other things?”

“Wow, Richie, studying,” Ben says from the doorway. “I never thought I’d see the day.” He grins. 

“Ben!” Richie exclaims. “Can you be her model? I really have to go-”

“Richie, hold still,” Bev says tightly. “Ben, sweetie, can you grab the silver eyeliner?”

Ben hands it to her. 

“But, Bev, you know gold compliments my eyes-”

“Richie, I don’t care if gold compliments your eyes more or if your arms are tired or if you need to finish your presentation tonight. You have ample time to practice tomorrow and the rest of tonight, the silver goes with the blue in the shirt, and your arms’ pain can suck my nonexistent dick okay?!” Bev snaps, clearly frustrated. “Sorry, sorry.” Her shoulders slump. 

“It’s okay,” Richie says quietly. “Put the eyeliner on.”

“Do you want some coffee, tea, or anything?” Ben asks sweetly. 

“Coffee would be great, thanks,” Bev replies. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” 

“How much longer?” Richie asks after a while. 

“I’m almost done,” Bev replies. “Then I just have to sew it, and I’ll have you try it on again after that.” 

Richie yawns. “Can we do that tomorrow? Y’know, since all of this is due Friday?” 

“I was actually hoping to get it done tonight…”

Richie yawns again, and if that yawn was fake and just meant for Bev to let him go so he can finish his presentation, that’s nobody's business but his own. 

“Fine. You can go to bed,” Bev gives in, pulling the sleeves and unfinished pant-legs gingerly off his gangly body. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he calls back, grabbing a Red Bull from the fridge. 

“What, Red Bulls put you to sleep or something?” Mike teases from the dining room table. 

Richie nods. “Like a baby.” He takes a sip. “Wow, I’m already starting to feel the effects."

“R-r-richie, you’re going to get f-f-fucking a-a-addicted to that shit,” Bill says. “M-m-mike, are you a-a-almost done with s-spell c-check?” 

Mike nods. “But Bill’s right, Richie. Didn’t you already have one of those today?” 

“No,” Richie lies. 

“Yeah, you did. T-t-there’s a six pack and there’s f-f-four in there, and B-b-bev and I are the on-only other people who d-drink those m-monstrosities.” 

“Oh, you caught me. Goodnight,” he says, for the last time. 

Mike sighs. “Goodnight.” 

Richie opens the door to his and Eddie’s room to find Eddie surprisingly still awake, drinking a cup of tea, and staring at his laptop screen. 

“Hey,” Richie says.

Eddie ignores him. 

“What, are you still mad at me?” Richie asks, a little hurt. He takes a sip of his Red Bull. 

“Hm?” Eddie asks, looking up. “What? No. No, I’m not still mad at you. I’m just… distracted. History paper.”

“Oh. Yeah. I have one of those too,” Richie says, pulling out his laptop and looking at his presentation with fresh eyes. 

Around midnight, they switch laptops to check each other’s spelling, grammar, and punctuation. Eddie almost starts another fight over nothing because Richie only had two errors in mechanics. Richie didn’t point out any of Eddie’s errors, though. It’s a possibility he didn’t even have any. 

Highly unlikely, but…

Eddie is jolted out of his thoughts by Richie’s leg shaking the entire bed. 

“Richie, did you take your meds today?” 

“Mm… mm-mm,” Richie replies, shaking his head. “I mean, yes, what? You’re so cute, have I-”

“You’ve got to remember to take your medication,” Eddie says. “Tomorrow, right?” 

“Yeah. Yeah-huh. Tomorrow,” Richie says, leg still shaking. 

“If you’re going to shake the bed like that all night, you can go sleep on the couch,” Eddie says, pulling Richie up so they can brush their teeth.

“I can shake the bed in other ways Eddie my lo-”

Eddie shuts Richie up with a kiss. “I don’t think so.” 

Eddie has to build a pillow barrier around himself because even in his sleep, Richie won’t stop moving and kicking everything. Eddie doesn’t get to bed until four in the morning, and he really almost gave up and moved to the couch because he has a final tomorrow, an early one nonetheless. 

Richie wakes him up again at six and he almost starts crying, because all he wants to do is get some sleep before his test, damnit! Instead, he makes a pot of coffee and starts studying for his math final. 

“y = mx + b…” he mumbles, stirring a bit of sugar into his coffee. He hates coffee and much prefers tea, but tea just doesn’t have the kind of caffeine he needs at the moment. 

“Eddie?” Stan asks, walking into the kitchen. 

“Hm?” 

“It’s eight thirty, isn’t the final at-”

“Eight thirty,” Eddie says. “Shit, I gotta go. Fuck. I’ll see you later, Stan. I have a test to fail.” He laughs humorlessly and is out the door, leaving Stan alone with his thoughts. 

Stan drinks a cup of black coffee and enjoys the quiet of the house, before everyone will be up and bickering with each other, working on different projects. He’ll be hearing the clacking of keyboards and the scratching of pencils and the table’s slight shake as Richie’s leg bounces against it every once and awhile.

Eddie comes home an hour and a half later, and nobody else is awake yet, something he and Stan are very happy about. 

“How are you?” Stan asks Eddie tentatively. 

“How the hell do you think I am?” Eddie snaps. 

Stan flinches. 

“Sorry. I’m tired. Richie drank a Red Bull right before bed and wouldn’t stop kicking me all night long, and… I’m scared because I really want to pass all my classes and right now I don’t think I’m going to and- FUCK I FORGOT TO TURN IN THE PAPER LAST NIGHT! I FINISHED IT BUT I DIDN’T TURN IT IN HOLY SHIT-” Eddie runs into his and Richie’s room and then sprints back to the couch, laptop in hand. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy-”

Stan brings a hand up to his mouth, chewing on a nail anxiously. “Hey, Eddie, it’s-”

Eddie bursts out laughing so hard, Stan thinks he’s gone insane.

“Eddie, Eddie are you-”

Eddie holds up a hand, telling Stan to wait, and laughs some more. 

“Holy shit,” he wheezes, taking a puff of his inhaler. “I… I turned it in… I forgot that I turned it in.”

Now it’s Stan’s turn to laugh hysterically. “That’s crazy. Damn. Finals week will do that to you.” 

Eddie just laughs again and then lies down, closing his laptop and turning on a baking show. He falls asleep within the first five minutes, clearly exhausted from the previous night and his final. 

Stan props his feet up on the ottoman and opens his laptop, checking the gradebook to see if the final from yesterday is in yet. The biology teacher is usually super good about getting grades in early. 

96.3 %

Stan beams, running to his and Bill’s room to share the good news with his boyfriend. 

“Bill, Bill, I passed,” Stan says quietly, but excitedly. 

Bill grins at him. “G-great j-job, baby. You really don’t have to get your-yourself s-so w-worked up like y-you did yesterday. You’re s-so smart, and c-c-capable. Study a li-li-little bit for these n-ne-next few tests, and you should be f-f-fine.” 

Stan smiles. “I’ll try. I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

They cuddle for a little bit, but eventually, Bill gets up to leave and then take another final. He has two today, so he’ll be gone for around three hours instead of one and a half. 

Stan pulls out his laptop and starts studying for his English final, which should be easy. He’s very good at grammar and finds it quite fun, so he doesn’t really understand why he feels like he’s about to have a panic attack?

He feels like he’s going to fail. He feels like when he fails, his parents won’t ever want to look at him again. The Losers are going to kick him out. 

He’s a failure. 

They don’t love him. 

He failed. 

They-

“Woah… Stan, you okay?” Mike asks, walking into the room with a cup of water. 

Stan nods, disoriented. “Just a little… out of it, I guess.”

“You’re crying,” Mike states. 

“I am?” Stan asks, wiping at his eyes. “I’m going to fail. May as well get over it, now.”

“You’re not going to fail,” Mike insists, putting a comforting hand on Stan’s shoulder. 

“How do you know?” Stan asks, looking up at one of his oldest friends with glossy eyes. 

“Because you are incredibly smart, talented, and you just got an A on your last final, so if we’re using our logic here, which I know is something you love to do, statistically you should earn more As on your next few tests.”

Stan sniffs. “You’re right, Mike.”

“When am I not?” Mike smiles. 

“Ew. Now you sound like Richie.”

Mike laughs. “Just a little bit. It’s going to be alright, though. Drink some water, and take a break from studying. Take a nap, read a non-academic book, draw, bird-watch, stimulate your brain with something different, okay?” 

Stan nods. “Okay.”

Mike smiles and then leaves the room. 

“I WILL GET YOUR GRANDMA YOU SHIT MEISTER!” Richie screams into the mic attached to his headphones. 

“RICHIE, IF I HAVE TO PULL THE PLUG ON THAT GAME ONE MORE TIME-”

MIke winces as Eddie screams. 

“Hey!” Richie yells “I was doing really well!”

“You know what you’re not going to do really well on,” Eddie starts. “Your finals. If you don’t start fucking studying.”

“You should start speaking in full sentences,” Richie retorts. 

“Haha. Very funny,” Eddie says. 

“I’m not joking,” Richie says. 

“That’s a first,” Eddie shoots back. 

“Would you shut up?” 

“I just want what’s best for you!” 

“I know what’s best for me,” Richie argues.

“Did you take your medicine this morning?” 

Richie is quiet. 

“Exactly. Just go take it, and please study.”

Richie sighs and walks to the kitchen to get a Red Bull, hoping it will substitute as his medicine. Sometimes caffeine helps with his ADHD and sometimes it really, really doesn’t. He’ll just have to see what kind of day today is. 

“Another one?” Ben asks, as Richie takes a swig. 

“Red Bull gives you wings.” Richie shrugs.

“Red Bull gives you heart palpitations,” Stan says dryly. 

Bev snorts. “Richie, you’re going to have to model again soon.”

“Okay, okay. Can you quiz me on my vocab for English while we do it, though?”

“Uhm… I’ll be busy taking pictures, but maybe Ben can?” 

“No, sorry,” Ben says. “My program is finally working after crashing around ten times because someone couldn’t get off the Xbox.” 

“Guilty,” Richie says. “Bill, can you quiz me while Bev uses me as a human mannequin?” 

Nobody responds. 

“Fuck, he’s still out isn’t he?” 

Stan laughs, nodding. 

“Stan, will you quiz me?” 

“I’m a little busy here, studying.” 

“Mike?”

“Hm?” Mike asks from the living room.

“Can you quiz me on my English vocab while Bev uses me as a human mannequin?” 

“Sure,” Mike replies. 

“Okay, okay. Model time!” Bev says.

This time it doesn’t take as long because Bev is simply taking photos, not creating a whole new outfit from scratch. She lets Richie wear the gold eyeliner this time, because she found a strip of gold fabric to add to the pant-leg, and it really ties the whole look together if she’s being completely honest. 

Richie is very happy with the outfit, but not super happy with how he’s doing with his vocab words.

“Richie, I think you just need to sit down and read these. Read them aloud and study them,” Mike says, after Richie gets a tenth one wrong. In a row. “Have you looked at these recently?”

“Yes,” Richie says. “Honest, I have.”

“Okay,” Mike says unsurely. “Just give them another look over.”

They finish the quiz just as Bill gets home and Bev finishes the photoshoot. Richie retires to his room to turn in his presentation to his professor, as well as go over the flashcards with the English vocab. He looks over the grammar textbook for a bit, but can’t focus on one page for more than 20 seconds at a time. He stands up to go get another Red Bull, but Eddie takes it from him as soon as he walks back into their bedroom. 

“I was up all night last night. You wanna know why?”

Richie nods. 

“You were kicking me like a fucking maniac. These cancerous drinks last for six fucking hours, did you know that?” 

Richie shakes his head. “Sorry, I-”

“No more caffeine before bed.”

“Yep. Okay.” 

Richie pulls out his grammar textbook again, and tries his absolute hardest to read, but he just can’t focus. He pinches his arm to keep himself grounded, but this just results in pain and shaky hands, so he stops, breathing heavily. 

He blinks a few times, clearing his eyes of the panicked tears that have somehow built up.

“You’re not going to fail,” he tells himself. “You’re smart. You’ve got this. You’re okay. You’re not going to fail.”

He cooks some ramen for dinner and then, back in bed, falls asleep face first into his grammar textbook.

Eddie stays up with Bev and Ben a while longer, working on a group project for English before retiring to bed.

He shakes his head at his idiot of a boyfriend, gently removing his glasses and smoothing back his messy curls. He presses a kiss to Richie’s temple and pulls the blankets up over his shoulders.

Tomorrow is going to be a busy day for them both. 

* * *

Stan sleeps through his first two alarms.

But it’s fine.

This is _fine_.

He has an hour and a half to get ready and take his last two finals, and then all he has to do is finish the paper due Friday.

Again, he’s _fine_. 

If he rushes, he’ll have time to eat a piece of slightly burnt toast on his way out the door. 

He opens the folder with all his pictures of blue jays in it, and checks that all the photos that need to be in there are there. He pulls on a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. 

“Oh, g-g-good, you’re a-a-awake,” Bill says. “I was a little worried when I w-w-woke up this morning and you b-b-barely m-moved-”

“Not now, Bill,” Stan says shortly. “I have to go. I love you. I have to go. I’ll be all yours after this, and after I finish the paper, though, okay?” 

Bill trips over his words, mildly hurt. “Ye-yeah. O-o-okay.” 

Stan leaves.

Bill knows he’s just stressed and dealing with anxiety, but it still hurts when his boyfriend completely blows him off like this. He wishes he could help, but he’s learned through past experience that the more you try to help Stan, the more he pushes you away. As sad as it is, you kinda just have to wait for him to calm himself down or crack. 

Whichever comes first. 

Bill sighs and then walks back into the kitchen to finish working on his paper. Or, one of them at least.

He has about three due… due Friday. 

“Damn, by the end of this week, you’re going to have carpal tunnel,” Bev teases lightly. 

Bill smiles. “I t-t-think I al-already d-do.” 

Ben sighs. “Is Richie on the friggin’ Xbox again? Because my program keeps crashing, and I have to have this finished by Friday. What day is it again?” 

“Wednesday,” Bev says helpfully. “And, no, both Richie and Eddie are taking finals right now.” 

“M-m-maybe your p-program is just s-shitty,” Bill says, shrugging. 

Ben sighs again and then moves to the living room. “There’s better WiFi in here.” 

Bev just shrugs and continues working on her portfolio. 

“How m-many m-more looks do you n-n-need?” Bill asks. 

“Two,” she replies. “Richie already did two of them… one earlier in the year. Do you want to be a model?” 

Bill smiles. “Sure, when I’m done with this paper.” 

He finishes the paper two hours later, and Richie and Eddie come home around that time, both looking pretty wrecked. 

Richie takes a Red Bull out of the fridge and starts gulping it down before Eddie can take it from him. 

Eddie sniffs. “Fuck, I’m going to get sick. I’m going to get fucking sick and it’s all because I didn’t wear a fucking scarf! I’m such an idiot. I didn’t wear a scarf in that fucking frozen tundra-”

“Eds, calm down,” Richie says, sounding way more congested than his boyfriend. “It’s okay.” He goes in for a hug, but Eddie pushes him back. 

“No offense, but you sound way worse than I do. I can’t get sick, not on finals week.”

Richie snorts. “I get sick every finals week.” He takes another sip of his Red Bull.

“Exactly,” Eddie says.

Richie makes a confused face, unsure of which point he just proved, but takes another sip of his drink because Eddie’s probably so tired he’s not making any sense. 

Eddie sniffles again. “Richie, I’m fucking sick.” 

“You’re not sick, baby. You’re going to be okay.”

Eddie shakes his head, exhausted tears filling his eyes. “Damn it, I just wanna sleep, but I have to fucking study.” He drags his hands through his hair, tugging on it lightly in distress. 

“Eds, it’s-”

“Don’t fucking call me that. I’m going to study. Just… leave me alone.” 

Richie watches him go sadly, taking another drink. 

Somebody takes the Red Bull out of his hands. 

“What the hell- Mike! Hey!” 

He replaces it with a cup of hot tea. “This is way better for you. Just have a sip.”

“Is this the shit that knocked me out a few weeks back? I can’t- Mike, I have to- we have to study…” 

“Do you have a final tomorrow?” Mike asks calmly. 

Richie nods. 

“Which one?” 

“Uh… it’s a… it’s an art class. Shit! Ceramics, Mike, I can’t drink your voo-doo tea, I have to finish the fucking PowerPoint. I’ll be right back.”

Mike sighs. 

“Your plan backfired, huh?” Ben asks quietly. 

Mike nods. “Yeah, a little bit.”

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, I’m just really worried about them. Eddie and Stan’s anxiety is worse than ever, and Richie’s gone through six Red Bulls in the past three days, his heart’s gotta be close to giving out on him by now-”

“How are _you_ , Mike?” Ben asks, cutting him off.

“I’m fine,” Mike replies honestly. “I passed the online math final, and I only have two more that are scheduled tomorrow and Friday. I studied a little bit all semester, unlike these idiots, who think cramming is clearly the superior method.” 

Ben laughs a little. “Okay. I’m glad that you’re doing okay. I understand why you’re worried, but sometimes you just have to let these things happen, y’know? Of course, we’ll make sure Richie doesn’t have a stroke, but-”

“Yeah, I get what you’re saying,” Mike says. “We are going to have the best movie night when all this shit is over.”

“Of course,” Ben says, smiling. 

Mike makes his specialty three cheese mac and cheese for everyone that night, since he has the time and resources. 

Dinner is almost scarily quiet. Richie looks exhausted, but Mike knows better than to ask if he’s okay. He just knows. He can tell by the way Richie sniffles every minute or so and the red-rims around his eyes that are from a combined lack of sleep and the common cold, or as some people call it, the “Finals Flu.” Eddie’s looking much better from earlier after a shower and a lot of hand sanitizer, and Mike’s sure whatever he had is gone now, and just came with the cold. 

Richie’s going to be under the weather for the rest of the week. However, as tired as he is, the table still bounces with the shaking of his leg.

“Mike, that was so good,” Bev says. “Thank you so much. We really needed that.”

“Of course,” Mike replies. “What with my finals being later in the week and everything, it’s the least I could do.”

Richie smiles. “That was really good.” His voice is hoarse, and almost gone. Nobody comments. 

“Ag-agreed. D-damn, I’ve missed real food. F-fuck ramen and co-cold coffee, right?” Bill asks the room. 

The Losers nod in agreement, and slowly get up to put their plates in the sink and dishwasher. Eddie doesn’t even bother lecturing the people (Richie, Bev, and Bill) who simply leave their plates in the sink. 

They retreat to their rooms after that. 

* * *

Thursday is just as hellish as Monday was, if not more so because of the added stress and lack of sleep.

Sure, Monday was full of anticipation anxiety, but now everyone’s just tired and irritable. 

Especially Eddie. 

He couldn’t sleep at all last night, so he decided that instead of wasting his time tossing and turning, he would use his time to study for the two finals he has coming up on Friday.

Richie wakes up with a gasp, bringing his hand to his chest quickly.

“Woah,” Eddie says. “Are you okay?” 

Richie, still breathing heavily, nods. He puts on his glasses and runs his fingers through his curls. “Uh… yeah… uhm… yes.”

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks.

“Yes,” Richie repeats. “Do I have a test today?” 

“Yes,” Eddie tells him. “And one more tomorrow, and then you’re done. Do you have any papers or projects due that I don’t know about?” 

Richie shakes his head, and his leg starts shaking involuntarily. 

“Fuck!” he yells. “Stop it!” 

“Richie, have you been taking your meds?”

Richie nods quickly. “What time is it?” 

“Almost ten.”

“Shit, okay. Ten thirty and… thanks, I’ll see you later. Final.” He sniffs loudly, annoyingly, but Eddie doesn’t really care. He’s too tired to focus on more than one thing at a time, and right now he’s focusing on finals.

Studying. 

He really wants a Pop Tart. 

He rubs his eyes so hard he sees stars and then walks into the kitchen to grab one. 

“Holy shit, Eddie,” Mike says, surprised. “Did you go to bed last night?”

“Mm-hm…” Eddie mumbles, putting his Pop Tart into the toaster. “Hey… what did Richie do with that other pack of Red Bulls…?”

“Woah,” Ben says, walking over to Eddie. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes. Why the hell does everyone keep asking me that?” he snaps. He eats his Pop Tarts quietly and then pours himself a glass of water, retreating back to his room. 

“I have to take a final in thirty minutes,” Mike tells Ben. “He doesn’t have any finals today, I’m pretty sure… so can you make sure he takes a nap or something? I don’t know how our friends do it, but they manage to make the stupidest decisions, no matter what the situation.”

Ben nods. “Yeah, they really do. Don’t worry, I won’t let them die. How’s Stan?”

“Better,” Mike replies. “Bill only has one more essay to write, and then he’s done for the week. I think Stan has one more test, and it’s today… he’s not home is he?”

“Haven’t seen him yet, no,” Ben replies. 

“Okay. He’s probably taking his last test. But you know the anticipation of grades is going to destroy him…” Mike trails off.

“It’ll be okay, Mike,” Ben says, putting a comforting hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Worry about yourself for a little bit, yeah?”

Mike smiles. “Just a little bit. I’ll see you later.”

“See you.” 

Ben finishes the rest of his architecture project because nobody else is using the WiFi at the moment. This is the first time in three days his computer hasn’t crashed while starting the program. 

“Hey, Bill, how’s the essay going?” Ben asks gently, walking into the living room. 

“G-g-good,” Bill replies, not looking up. “H-have you s-s-seen Stan?” 

“I thought he was taking a final?” 

“Oh y-yeah… you’re r-right,” Bill says. “That’s his l-l-last one. Good r-r-r-riddance. This week has been hell and it’s n-not even o-over yet.” 

Ben notices the bags under Bill’s eyes, and the way he keeps cracking his fingers and back. 

“Maybe you need a break…?” he suggests.

Bill shakes his head. “I just… n-n-need to f-f-finish.” He yawns, but Ben leaves him alone because Bill knows his limits. Eddie usually doesn’t though. 

“Hey, Eddie, what are you working on?”

“Sh,” Eddie replies immediately. “I’m studying.”

Ben is quiet for a moment, thinking about what the best way to go about this is. 

“For what?” 

Eddie groans and rubs his eyes. “I’m studying, please go _away_. It’s… it’s that group project for English and I’m reading the Psychology material again.”

“Are those your last two finals?” Ben asks. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Eddie nearly whines. “Please leave me alone.”

“Okay,” Ben says, giving up. He checks on Bev next, who looks tired, but happy with her work. She’s finishing the painting for her art class. 

“Looks like I won’t need to keep you guys up all night after all,” she says, smiling. “I finished the portfolio early.” 

Ben grins back at her. “They look amazing, Beverly. And so does the painting.”

“Thank you,” she says, putting her paintbrush down. “Did you finish your project?”

“Mhm.” 

“Do you want to maybe watch TV for a little while?”

“Sure.”

Mike finds them a little later, asleep on the couch, and decides to leave them be. Stan and Bill are in their room, Stan probably refreshing the gradebook every thirty seconds, and Bill checking his last essay for any mistakes. 

“Hey, Mike,” Richie says tiredly, drinking from yet another can of Red Bull. 

“Hey,” Mike replies. “Those still affect you?”

“Mhm…” Richie says. He looks exhausted, but his legs and hands are shaking like hell. “Only one more.”

“One more Red Bull?” Mike asks incredulously.

“One more final,” Richie corrects. “But, yeah, I could go for another Red Bull…” He stands, swaying slightly, and Mike helps him slowly back away from the fridge. 

“Which class is it for?”

“English… I think?” Richie replies.

“And you’ve looked over the vocab?”

Richie nods slowly. 

“Then you’re fine. Go lie down, okay? Relax. You don’t sound very good.”

Richie sniffs and then runs a hand through his slightly greasy hair. “Yeah, okay. I- okay.”

Ben walks into the kitchen to make dinner a little after that. 

“How’s Eddie?” Mike asks. 

“I don’t know if he’s slept in the last 36 hours…” Ben says, trailing off. “But he’s okay. Bill is almost done with his last essay… has been for a few hours now, but those things are like eighty pages long, so almost done could mean he’s halfway there. Stan is hanging in there, I guess.”

Mike sighs. “Next semester, we’ve got to force them to study throughout the entire semester and not just cram in one week. Bev’s finished with her assignments, I assume?”

“Yes. I love how we talk about them like they’re actual children.”

Mike snorts. “Well that’s how they act when stuff like this happens!”

“You’re right, you’re right, but that doesn’t make it any less funny.”

Eddie walks into the kitchen, opening the cupboard and grabbing yet another Pop Tart. 

“Woah,” Mike says, gently taking it from him. “What are you doing?”

“Dinner?” Eddie questions, like he doesn’t even know. 

“What if you eat something that will actually provide nutrients? I’ll make you a sandwich,” Mike tells him. 

Eddie nods and sits down at the table, resting his head on his arms. He bangs his head against the table a few times. 

“Eddie, woah…” Ben starts, walking up behind him. “Let’s not do that, okay?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I- okay…”

“You only have two more tests, right?” 

Eddie nods, putting his head down again. His shoulders start shaking gently. 

“Shit,” Mike murmurs. “Eddie, it’s okay.”

“No. I’m a failure,” Eddie states. 

“That’s just the anxiety talking,” Mike reassures him. 

“No. I can’t focus. I’ve been studying for twelve hours straight and I can’t remember anything,” Eddie explains, exhausted and frustrated tears blurring his vision. 

“That’s because you haven’t taken any breaks in between,” Ben says. “If you just take a break, take a nap, do something else for a while, all the information you studied will start to soak in, and you’ll ace the test.”

Eddie blinks slowly. “Really?”

Ben resists the urge to laugh. “Really.”

“Okay,” Eddie agrees. He takes his sandwich back to his and Richie’s room. 

* * *

Mike’s last final is early Friday morning, and as soon as he’s finished, he gets home to make sure everyone’s okay. He makes them water and tea and helps check grammar and spelling mistakes for anyone who needs it. 

Bev turns in her portfolio, Bill turns in his essay, and Ben leaves to take his last final. Richie and Eddie must have their finals later in the day, because Mike hasn’t seen either of them yet, and even though Eddie’s dead on his feet, he set about thirty extra alarms at the beginning of the week, so no matter what, he wouldn’t miss any finals. 

“Hey, Mike,” Stan says quietly, drawing Mike out of his thoughts. 

“Hi,” Mike says, a little startled. “How are you?”

“I’ve been better, for sure. But I’m okay.” He chews on one of his nails anxiously, pouring a cup of tea. 

“Yeah?” Mike asks.

“Yes. This week has been rough, but I got the worst of it done in the beginning of the week. Now it’s just the anticipation… and you know how that goes…” he trails off. “But I’ll be okay. I have you guys, and I have my logic. And logic says that since I studied for more hours than I slept this week, I should pass all my tests.” 

Mike laughs. “Also, you’re one of the smartest people here, so… that helps.”

Stan shrugs. “I don’t know. But thank you.”

“Of course.” 

“Hey, Mike, where’s the rest of the Red Bull?” Richie asks, a while later. 

Mike shrugs. “I don’t know, I think it’s gone. You can have some coffee, though.”

“ _Shit,_ ” Richie mumbles. “That’s not gonna cut it.” His hands are shaky, and he can feel his heart beat quickly, pounding against his ribcage. 

“You sure you need it?” Mike asks. “You look pretty energized already.”

“I’m fine,” Richie says. 

“Did you take your meds?” 

“Mm-hm…” Richie says absently, taking a sip of coffee. “Is Eddie out?”

“He’s not still in bed?” 

Richie looks confused for a moment. “No… he must’ve had an even earlier test than I thought.”

“Maybe he left early to study?” Stan offers. 

“Should I order a pizza tonight?” Mike asks. 

“Yes, please, yes. Has anybody gone to the store yet this week?” Richie takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes a little.

“No,” Stan replies. 

“Okay, well, when someone does, can you please get some chocolate covered coffee beans… please? Did I say please? I-”

Mike laughs. “Sure, Richie, I’ll pick you up some chocolate covered coffee beans.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Richie says. He yawns, taking another sip of his coffee. “This shit isn’t strong enough. Where-” He stands up, swaying on his feet a bit, but then walks over to the cupboard where they keep the cereal and vitamins. “Yes is the _shit_ right here, guys. I got the good shit.” 

“Richie, those are Flintstone vitamins,” Stan says dryly.

“They’re magic,” Richie replies, popping one in his mouth. “What time is it?” 

“Eleven,” Mike replies immediately. 

“Okay. I have one more hour to cram. I’m gonna… I’m gonna go do that. I’ll see you guys later.” He sniffs one more time, and Mike wonders if he’ll also have to buy cough syrup along with the chocolate covered coffee beans. 

A trip to the store, a few boxes of pizza, and a couple hours later, everyone is back home. 

“Guys… let’s watch a movie,” Eddie says through a yawn. 

“Ten bucks he doesn’t make it through the title,” Mike whispers to Ben, who laughs. 

“How do you two even have your shit together anyway?” Stan asks. 

“Because I decided to study throughout the year instead of cram,” Mike explains. “And Ben’s architecture classes require him to just come up with ideas and flesh them out… which is apparently fun?”

Ben nods enthusiastically. “Are any grades in for the papers yet, Bill?” 

“H-have you e-ever taken a-an English c-c-course?” Bill jokes. “No. It’s gonna take the p-professors at least a m-month to g-g-g-get through those motherfuckers.” 

“Has anybody seen my glasses?” Richie asks, stumbling into the kitchen. 

“They’re on top of your head,” Mike says helpfully. 

“Thank you.” And then he’s gone. 

Bill laughs. “Is h-he okay?” 

“I think so?” Bev replies. 

“Is everyone done with the pizza?” Mike asks, holding up one last slice. Everyone nods, and he puts it in the fridge, saving it for tomorrow. Richie will probably eat it for breakfast. “Okay, so what movie are we watching?”

“Comfort Disney movie, for sure,” Bev says. “High School Musical.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s a horror movie,” Stan argues. “The Princess and the Frog.”

“Guys, the obvious choice h-here is S-sofia the F-first.”

“Bill, shut up.” 

Mike snorts. “I like The Princess and the Frog.”

“Where’s Richie and Eddie?” 

“Here!” Richie yells from the couch. 

“Shut up!” Eddie groans. “It’s so fucking loud. Would you just shut the fuck up?” 

“The Little Mermaid is a good movie,” Richie says quietly. 

“We can watch both,” Stan suggests. 

“Sounds great,” Bev agrees. She pulls a bottle of apple juice out of the fridge. “So… I thought since it’s the end of finals week, we’d celebrate with champagne or something. But then I realized we’re underage! Yay. So… is anyone down for apple juice in champagne glasses?” 

“Yes!” Richie exclaims, voice still hoarse. He stands abruptly and runs over to her. “I’ll help, I’ll help.” 

“Wash your hands,” Bev instructs. 

“I’m not contagious sick,” he tells her, but does it anyway. “You sound like Eddie.”

“Shut up!” Eddie yells tiredly. 

“We’re going to se-set up the m-m-movie,” Bill says.

Bev passes out apple juice filled wine glasses to everyone, and it’s a much appreciated gesture. She cuddles up on the couch next to Ben. 

“I’m so proud of you, Bev. Your designs looked amazing,” he tells her. 

She smiles, blushing lightly. “Thanks. Yours did, too. I hope we ace it.”

“We will, don’t worry.”

“Get a room,” Eddie mumbles. “Richie, stop bouncing your leg.”

“I can’t…” 

“Did you take your meds today?” Mike asks. 

“Didn’t you already ask me that?” Richie retorts. Mike just looks at him. “Fine. No, I didn’t. And I haven’t all week because I lost my medication and I need a refill on adderall and I couldn’t fucking find my health insurance card-”

“It’s in my wallet you dumbass!” Eddie yells. 

“Oh.” Richie almost laughs. “And… I haven’t been able to sleep well all week and shit… I-”

“That explains all the coffee and Red Bulls,” Stan says. 

“Yeah, and now-”

“You w-w-want coffee,” Bill finishes. 

“I want coffee,” Richie states.

“What if you just slept instead of overusing caffeine?” Mike suggests. 

Richie yawns. “Wow, that’s a great idea. I’m starstruck. That’s never been thought of before. Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular-”

“Please shut up, Richie,” Eddie whines. “Come here.” Richie lies his head on Eddie’s chest and curls up next to him on one end of the couch. 

“Okay… goodnight guys, I lov-” He yawns, interrupting himself. “Love you.” 

Tiana starts singing “Almost There,” and Eddie tries to pay attention to the movie, but his head dips to the side and he’s out before the end of the song.

The rest of the Loser’s follow Richie and Eddie’s lead, all of them exhausted after a grueling finals week. 

Mike hopes they can get through summer finals easier with this newfound experience, but part of him knows that won’t be the case. He can try and try to stop his friends from being idiots, but at the end of the day, they’re still dumbasses. 

Lovable dumbasses. 

* * *

Eddie wakes up slowly, cracking his neck and aching absolutely everywhere.

“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath. He tries to stand, but doesn’t get very far, because Richie is laying directly on top of him. 

“Good morning, Eddie,” Mike says quietly. “How did you sleep?”

“Okay, I guess,” Eddie replies, looking around at the rest of the Losers. “Where’s Stan?”

“Taking a shower,” Mike answers. 

Eddie relaxes a bit and drags a hand through Richie’s curls. “Oh, gross…”

“What?” Mike asks, laughing a little. 

“He’s drooling all over me. It’s wisdom teeth all over again.”

Mike doubles over laughing. “I mean… if finals week pain for you guys is equivalent to literally getting teeth pulled out of your mouth-”

“Yeah, how the hell do you have your shit together anyway?” Eddie asks, tugging on one of Richie’s curls lightly. It stays limp, a tell-tale sign he needs a shower.

“There’s this thing called not cramming…” 

“I did that!” Eddie protests.

Mike shrugs. “Not well.”

“Hey!”

Richie groans and stretches out, opening his eyes blearily. “Can you be quiet please?”

Eddie laughs. “Sure. But only because you asked nicely.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Seriously though. Next finals week, let’s do things a little differently, yeah?” 

Eddie looks around again, at how exhausted and defeated all his friends look. 

“Yeah… yeah. I think that’d be good. But can we _not_ talk about the fact that there’s a next time?”

Mike smiles. “Of course.”


	4. quarantine with the twins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mike and richie in quarantine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back  
> did you miss me?  
> i hope so :)
> 
> uhm okay so i'm obsessed with writing characters in quarantine now?  
> idk why i just am, so i decided to do mike and richie as twins in quarantine for a bit more chaos  
> i'm really out here providing y'all with that (quality?) quarantine content  
> uh...
> 
> featuring:  
> \- richie wrecking his sleep schedule  
> \- mike missing eleven  
> \- nancy dying her hair  
> \- max and bev being iconic redheads  
> \- a chaotic zoom call
> 
> again, not trying to make light of the situation, just trying to make the most of it, haha. i hope you all enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it! don't be afraid to leave a comment and kudos if you enjoy it, i feel like this one was really bad for some reason? like worse than the others, which this is "crack" fic but i still want to take my writing seriously and take pride in it, y'know? so... yeah. constructive criticism would be much appreciated as well!  
> :) <3 :)

“Pardon the interruption, but due to the coronavirus outbreak, school will be cancelled from now until April 13th. I repeat, school is cancelled until April 13th.”

“Oh, hell yeah!” Richie screams, pumping his fists in the air. 

“Mr. Tozier, please settle down,” Mr. Davis says, shaking his head.

“Sorry,” Richie mumbles under his breath, bouncing in his seat. “Bev, holy shit, holy shit. No more sitting in cramped classrooms all day!”

“They can’t be serious,” Mike whispers, in awe. “We’re going to have to make this all up.”

“Dude, you know how much time we’re going to have to hang out over break?” Bev asks excitedly, turning around in her desk. 

“Oh, a shit ton, I know,” Richie replies. 

“I don’t know, guys,” Stan says nervously. “Isn’t the point of this to not see each other? To quarantine ourselves and prevent the spread of the virus?”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Richie says, waving his hand in the air. “Three more minutes, and we’re out of here for a month!”

“Yeah, Mom said she isn’t going to quarantine us,” Mike says, shrugging. “It’ll be fine. We’re probably going to have to do online school, though.”

“That’ll take like two hours, at _most_ ,” Bev says, with a wave of her hand. 

The bell rings, and Richie rushes to get his stuff packed so he can meet Eddie by his locker before joining everyone else at Ben’s and Mike H’s lockers. 

“Hey, Eds, Spagheds. Wanna come over later?” 

Eddie glares at him, standing up from where he was knelt next to his ground-level locker. “Don’t call me that, Richie. You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“Well, do you?”

“Richie…” Eddie starts, trailing off. “I don’t know if I can. My mom’s basically quarantined me already. And you know how big of a deal the coronavirus is. The whole point of us not being in school is so that we don’t see each other.”

Richie rolls his eyes. “That’s what Stan said. Oh, well, that’s okay. Maybe after quarantine.”

“Sure,” Eddie says, smiling. 

They walk to Ben’s and Mike H’s lockers, where most of the gang are already walking out to the bus stop. 

“Hey, Mikey, wait up!” Richie exclaims, running to jump on his twin brother’s backpack. Mike winces. “Nancy is driving us home today, right?”

He nods. “Yes, just like every other Friday.”

“Cool.” He does finger guns and Mike rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to his girlfriend.

“So, no school for a whole month. This is crazy, right?” Mike asks her. 

She nods. “Yeah. Crazy. We’ll all still be able to see each other, right?”

“Oh yeah.” Mike nods. “Totally.” He takes her hand. 

“I’m going to have so much time to skate,” Max tells Lucas. 

“Yeah. Maybe you could _finally_ teach me,” Bev says, shaking Max’s shoulders. 

Max laughs. “Maybe. Wanna come over tonight?”

“Sure,” Bev answers. “What should I tell my dad?”

“Tell him you have a g-g-group p-project and you n-need to d-do it before q-q-quarantine r-r-really kicks in,” Bill says. 

Bev quickly texts her dad. “Woah, that was fast. He said okay, but I have to be home by nine.”

“Sounds great, I’m biking home, just follow me.”

“Dustin, how do you think your mom is going to act about this?” Lucas asks, as the girls start speeding up. 

“No clue,” Dustin replies honestly. 

“My mom is already so up-tight about everything.” Will groans. “I’m not going to see you guys for the next month.”

“Maybe even longer,” Ben says. 

“There’s n-no way,” Bill argues. 

Mike H shrugs. “You never know.”

“Can we stop talking about the actual virus, and start talking about how much free time we’re going to have?” Richie asks, putting his arms around his friends’ shoulders. 

“I agree,” Dustin says. 

“Dusty, my man!” Richie exclaims. 

They high-five, and then Nancy honks from where she’s parked in the main driveway. 

“Get in losers, we’re going shopping,” she quotes from the window. 

“Really?!” Richie exclaims, running to her. 

Mike rolls his eyes. “No, dipshit.” He turns to El. “See you later, okay?”

She nods. “See you later.”

“Bye, guys!” 

“Bye!” everyone choruses back. 

“So, how was your day?” Nancy asks. 

“Wow, how nice of you to ask,” Richie starts in a British accent. “Biology sucked and so did Algebra, but I don’t have to endure that shit for another month!”

“So you’re happy school is over,” Nancy states. 

“Hell yes!” 

Mike makes a so-so motion. “I hope Mom doesn’t quarantine us.”

Nancy grimaces. “Yeah, I’m a bit nervous about that.”

“You’ll miss Jonathan too much, won’t you?” Richie teases, making kissy noises. 

“Shut up, Richie,” Nancy says automatically. She turns on the radio, and they listen to music the rest of the way home. 

Richie kicks off his shoes and throws his backpack on the floor, flinging himself on the couch as soon as he gets home.

“Richie, seriously, are you trying to break your laptop again?” Mike asks, a little annoyed. He toes his shoes off and sets his backpack next to Richie’s. 

Richie shrugs. “Mom, what’s for dinner?” he asks, pulling out his phone. 

“Breakfast for dinner,” Karen replies from the kitchen. “How was your day?”

“Good.”

“He’s on Tik Tok, Mom, don’t bother,” Mike says, sitting down at the kitchen table. Karen hands him a plate of apples and a little bit of peanut butter to dip them in. 

“Well, how was your day, sweetie?”

“It was okay,” Mike replies honestly, crunching on one of the apples.

“Mikey!” Holly exclaims, running in from the other room. 

Mike picks her up and hugs her. “Hi, Holly. What’s up?” 

“School’s all done,” she says. 

“For the rest of the year?” Mike asks, turning to his mom and setting Holly on the chair next to him. He hands her an apple to snack on. 

Karen nods. “Yeah, even though the coronavirus targets the older generation, children spread germs like wildfire, so they’re closing down her preschool for the rest of the year.”

“Wow,” Mike breathes, grabbing another apple. “Speaking of coronavirus, you’re not quarantining us, right?”

Karen sighs. “I’m not sure how big of a deal this is, yet. I probably won’t have to, but we’re going to have to keep the news on and play it all by year, okay?”

Mike nods. “Okay. I just really don’t think it’s necessary. I mean, this is just like the flu. People love to panic. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Agreed,” Richie says, walking in from the other room and taking an apple from Mike’s plate. He dips it in peanut butter.

“Richie, what the hell, that was mine!” Mike exclaims. 

“Well now it’s mine,” Richie says, taking another apple. 

“Richie, I swear I’m gonna-”

“Relax, Mike, there’s plenty more apples in the fridge,” Karen says calmly. “And it’s not just like the flu. They don’t have a vaccine for this, and it’s new. I agree that people love to panic, but this might be more than what we all think it is. We should just keep watching the news and paying attention to the professionals.”

“The news is stupid,” Mike mutters. “They just want to scare people into staying inside. Mom, please don’t quarantine us. I have to see the others, and not to mention I promised Jane I’d take her to the movies, since Hopper’s finally letting her-”

“Mike, the movies are closed. You wouldn’t be able to go anyway. I don’t want to quarantine you. I don’t want to _be_ quarantined. This is just the way things are.” 

Mike sighs heavily and takes the rest of his apples into the living room. “This is so bullshit.”

“I guess.” Richie shrugs. “But at least we don’t have to go to school anymore.”

“True.”

“Work’s cancelled,” Ted announces at dinner.

“What?” Nancy asks. 

“No way,” Karen says. “They rarely give you days off, there’s no way they would cancel.”

“It’s because of the virus,” Ted tells her. 

“Holy shit,” Richie breathes. 

“Richie, Holly isn’t ready for that kind of language yet, okay?” Karen gently reminds him, aware that his ADHD makes it hard for him to filter himself. “And frankly, we don’t like to hear it that much either.”

Richie nods. “Sorry, this is just a little crazy.”

“You can say that again,” Mike says. He takes a bite of pancake, trying not to wish for school. For the past year, all he wanted was to get out of school. And now that it’s finally over… _no._ He will _not_ miss school.

After dinner, Mike takes out his phone to text the group chat. 

**the losers party**

**7:05 p.m.**

mikeymikey: Guys, this is crazy, amirite?

bitchard: you can say that again

stalker: Does anyone wanna hang out this week

edsspagheds: I would love to, but my mom is quarantining me :(

staniel: Yeah, I’m also quarantined.

willthewise: same

edsspagheds: Also, Richie, I thought I told you to change my fucking name!

thebetterredhead: oh no richie, the singular exclamation point

haystack: Richie run

bitchard: it was either that, or medicine man, eds

mikenike: mEDICINE MAN I-

b-b-bill: I WHEEZED

madmax: PFFF

stalker: Yall are on something

dusty-bun: Correction: richie is on something

bitchard: adderall, baby ;)

willthewise: lol

edsspagheds: My mom’s taking my phone, I gotta go, bye

bitchard: bye

elseggos: What’s adderall?

bitchard: meds

mikeymikey: ADHD meds

elseggos: Cool, I gotta go too, Hopper’s also taking my phone. bye! <3

mikeymikey: <3

The doorbell rings, and Mike puts away his phone. Richie jumps up off the couch to get it. 

“Aunt Mary!” he exclaims, going in to hug her. 

She pulls away sadly. “Rich, you can’t.”

He looks hurt. “Why the hel-eck not?”

“Corona,” she states. 

Richie almost cusses, but quickly stops himself. “Yeah. Makes sense. Not to be rude, but why are you here?”

She laughs. “Just to catch up with your parents a bit, talk about everything that’s been going on. Specifically with school being cancelled, the fact that I’m a teacher and all… why are you here?”

“I live here,” he shoots back, laughing. He walks back into the living room. “Mike, let’s watch a movie.”

“I don’t want to,” Mike says blandly.

“Please.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Richie, shut up.”

“I’m just going to keep asking.”

“I know,” Mike says, sighing. He picks up his phone, and he has no notifications. “Fine. Disney or Pixar?”

“Pixar. Let’s watch Up. Wait, that’s Holly’s favorite. Hols!” Richie yells. 

“Dude, what if she’s sleeping?” Mike snickers as he looks at the time. It’s nine o’clock.

“Shit,” Richie whispers under his breath. 

Nancy walks down the stairs, Holly on her hip. “What’s going on?” Nancy asks. 

“We’re going to watch Up.”

“Up! Up!” Holly exclaims, wriggling in Nancy’s arms. She runs to the twins and snuggles into Richie’s side. “On, please.”

“Okay, Hols, one minute.”

Mike turns on Disney+ and quickly selects the family favorite. Nancy sits on the couch next to him. 

Karen comes in to check on them, and takes a picture while they’re absolutely engrossed in the movie. 

“It’s been eleven years,” Richie starts. “That movie is still way too good.”

Nancy laughs. “Agreed. Is she asleep?”

Mike looks at Holly and nods. 

“I’ll take her upstairs,” Nancy says, picking up her little sister. 

Richie stands up and then turns on the light. 

Mike shields his eyes, squinting. “A little warning would’ve been nice.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Richie retorts. He walks into the dining room and takes a cracker from the plate of cheese and crackers. “Hi, mom.”

“Hi, sweetie. What’s up?”

“Nothing, I’m just hungry.” He grabs a plate and piles on a few crackers. 

“Share those with Mike!” 

“I will!”

“I’m not hungry,” Mike mumbles, turning on another movie. 

“I know.” Richie grabs a couple blankets from the ottoman, throwing one to Mike and wrapping himself in the other. “Aladdin?”

“Yeah, why not. I like the music.”

“You like the princess.”

“Richie, shut up.”

“You do! I’m telling El.”

Richie pulls out his phone. 

“Richie, stop!” Mike yells, trying to take Richie’s phone out of his hands. 

“No,” Richie says, laughing. 

Mike grabs Richie’s hand and pulls it away from his phone, but Richie just grabs his phone with the other hand. 

“Ha! Ambidextrous, bitch!”

“You’re not ambidextrous! Give me your phone!”

“Hm… no,” Richie says, finally hitting send on the message. 

Mike picks up his phone.

**the losers party**

**10:58 p.m.**

bitchard: miahdfa has a cruwh oh pbrincess jasmineeee

stalker: ?

staniel: Ditto.

elseggos: ?

“Joke’s on you. You can’t spell.”

“Did I ask?” Richie turns his attention to the screen as Aladdin starts to sing “One Jump Ahead.”

By the time the movie finishes, it’s around midnight, and Aunt Mary is heading home. The twins say goodbye to her, and then Karen and Ted see them off to bed. Richie keeps snapping back with Bev and Dustin, alternating between that and Tik Tok, before he follows Mike’s lead and goes to bed. 

It’s been three weeks.

“Mike, it’s two a.m. Wake _up_ ,” Richie says, throwing a pillow at his twin.

Mike groans, rubbing his eyes. “Leave me _alone._ ”

“No, I don’t think so,” Richie replies, grabbing another pillow off the floor and throwing it at Mike.

“Richie, _stop_.”

“No.”

Richie’s run out of pillows.

“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath. 

**the losers party**

**2:13 a.m.**

bitchard: [lazymf.png]

bitchard: i’m bored and he won’t wake up someone facetime me

dusty-bun: I can in one second 

bitchard: okay

bitchard: so how is everybody’s night so far?

thebetterredhead: oh it’s just great! remember when we thought we’d be hanging out every day? 

stalker: She and Max are having sad hours… 

b-b-bill: aren’t we all?

thebetterredhead: i just miss you guys

staniel: Guys, Mike has the right idea. Go the fuck to bed, please and thank you.

bitchard: stanley hittin us with the punctuation

bitchard: i honestly rly needed that rn 

bitchard: dustin, can you facetime yet? i’m still bored 

dusty-bun: Yes, one second

Richie sighs, tucking his phone under his pillow and laying back. 

“Mike, I’m bored.”

“So you’ve said,” Mike murmurs, not opening his eyes. 

“Can you come downstairs with me?”

“No.”

Richie groans and then picks up his phone.

**bitchard >>dusty-bun**

**2:31 a.m.**

bitchard: facetime?

bitchard: … 

bitchard: DUSTIN

dusty-bun: OKAY OKAY I’M COMING

bitchard: that’s what she said

dusty-bun: Y’know, on second thought, maybe I won’t FaceTime you

bitchard: i was kidding! all jokes

Richie’s screen changes as Dustin FaceTimes him. 

“Hey Dustin! How are you?” Richie asks, way too loudly. 

“I’m good, what about you?” Dustin replies. 

“I’m so bored, and Mike’s being a lazy dumbass, but what’s new?”

“You should bake something,” Dustin suggests.

“Dustin, I’m going to burn the fucking house down. You’re a genius.”

He grins. “I know.” 

“Okay, what are we making here?” Richie asks, running downstairs to the kitchen. 

“Brownies?” Dustin suggests.

“No, those are too heavy. Cake?”

“Too much decoration in my opinion. That’s going to take forever.”

“Well, I’m going to be here all night anyway,” Richie replies. “How about good old chocolate chip cookies?”

“Sounds good,” Dustin says, setting up his switch for something. 

“What are you playing?” Richie asks, getting out the ingredients. 

“SuperSmash,” he replies. 

“Mm… fuck, we’re all out of chocolate chips.”

“Check the basement?” Dustin suggests.

“Okay, there’s a difference between the basement and the cellar. The basement is chill, but the cellar is fucking haunted, man.”

“Get Mike or Nancy.” Dustin shrugs. 

“M’kay. Be right back.”

Richie runs back up the stairs, leaving his phone on the kitchen table.

“Pst. Mike. Mike, I need you to do something for me,” Richie whispers, shaking Mike’s shoulder.

“What?” Mike slurs, still half-asleep. 

“Okay, so I may or may not be making cookies, but the chocolate chips are in the cellar, so I need you to come with me to get them.”

“After that, will you leave me the hell alone?”

“Probably.”

Mike stands up, following Richie into the cellar. Richie grabs the bag of chocolate chips, opens it, eats a few, and then wordlessly hands Mike a couple as well. 

“Okay, okay, I’m awake now,” Mike says, slightly annoyed. “What are we making?” He sits down at the kitchen table.

“Cookies,” Richie replies. “Can you cream the butter and sugar? Oh, hey Dustin, I’m back!”

“Richie, not so loud. Mom would be pissed if she knew we were down here.”

“Whoops, sorry,” Richie whispers, adding eggs to Mike’s bowl. “What character are you in smash?”

“Bowser,” Dustin says. 

“Hm,” Richie mumbles absently, adding the dry ingredients to a bowl. “Do you put frosting on cookies?”

Dustin laughs loudly.

“Richie, when have you ever seen frosting on cookies?” Mike asks. 

“In my defense, there’s a such thing as a cookie cake, holy shit, we should make that next-”

“What the hell are you two doing down here?” Nancy asks from the hallway.

“Uh…” Mike trails off.

“Baking?” Richie offers. 

Dustin’s struggling to hold in his laughter.

“Fair,” Nancy says, shrugging. She opens the cabinet. “Okay, who ate the last jar of Nutella? And then put it _back_?”

Mike points at Richie.

“Michael, how dare you assume it was me, of all people? How outrageous, how utterly ridiculous, why I-”

“I literally watched you eat the last of it right before bed, Richie. Don’t even try to lie,” Mike says smugly. 

“I-, there’s more in the cellar!” Richie blurts. 

They all stand there. 

“Okay, so is this not the perfect time to make the ‘when worlds collide’ tik tok?” Richie asks.

Nancy grins. 

“No. No, I am not participating in a tik tok,” Mike says, standing up. 

“Yes, you are,” Richie argues, putting Dustin on pause. “Dusty, we’re going to make a tik tok.”

“Cool,” Dustin says. 

They end up making the tik tok. Mike is in it, but he isn’t happy about it. Richie posts it on his story immediately. 

“So, who’s coming down to the cellar with me to get the Nutella?”

“Take Dustin,” Richie says, handing Nancy his phone. 

“Wow, thanks,” Dustin says sarcastically. “Honestly, I don’t know how to feel.”

“Neither do I, welcome to 2020. Richie, the cookies are ready for the oven,” Nancy says, disappearing down the basement steps. 

Richie and Mike scoop the chocolate chip cookies onto a couple baking sheets and then put them in the oven for the recommended time, around ten minutes. While they’re waiting, Nancy helps them clean up. Well, she doesn’t really help them. She cleans up and they polish off the bag of chocolate chips.

“Guys, we should watch a movie,” Richie suggests, getting tired of watching the cookies bake. 

“No,” Mike says. “We should eat the cookies, and then go to bed.”

“Okay, what movie?” Nancy asks. 

Richie gasps, snapping his fingers. “I’m a genius. Let’s watch The Little Mermaid!”

“ _Richie_ ,” Mike starts. 

“Come on, Mike, that was our favorite movie as kids.”

“Mike, watch the damn Disney movie.”

“Dustin, I didn’t ask,” Mike snaps back. “But fine.”

Nancy starts up Disney+ while Mike and Richie get the cookies out of the oven and pour glasses of milk. 

“Holy shit, Richie, these cookies are good,” Nancy says. 

“Tollhouse package,” Richie says, taking a bite. “Holy shit, I made these. And I didn’t burn the house down!”

“Congrats,” Mike says dryly. 

“Shut up, you’re just jealous ‘cuz you barely helped.”

“Okay, without me, these cookies wouldn’t exist because you were too scared to go into the cellar!”

“Well guess what, I-”

“Shut up, the movie’s starting.”

Richie takes a picture of his cookies and posts it on his snap story, along with a few videos of the movie. “Poor Unfortunate Souls” is his favorite song, so of course he has to get up and dance to it. He’s on a sugar-high, anyway. 

“You’ll have your looks! Your pretty face! And let’s not forget about the importance of body-language, ha!” Richie swings his hips, as Ursula does. 

Mike shakes his head, unable to hide his laughter. 

“The men up there don’t like a lot of blabber, they think a girl who gossips is a bore!” He continues, dancing around the living room. “Come on you pour unfortunate soul!” He takes Mike by the shoulders. “Go ahead! Make your choice! I’m a very busy woman and I haven’t got all day, it won’t cost much, just your voice!”

Mike snorts, falling over laughing. “Richie, you’re ridiculous.”

“Flotsam, Jetsam, now I’ve got ‘er boys, the boss is on a roll!” Richie whisper-belts, hyper-aware of accidentally waking up his parents. 

“Okay, okay, sit down,” Nancy says, shaking her head and pulling him back down. 

Richie laughs a little and then pulls a blanket over his knees, settling in to watch the rest of the movie. 

“Mike, wake up,” Richie whispers for the third time. “It’s over.”

“What time is it?” Mike asks. 

“Five something?” Richie shrugs. “Let’s go back upstairs, Mom wakes up at six.”

“Yeah, okay. Goodnight, Nance.”

“Night,” she says, picking up her phone.

“Holy shit, wait, is Dustin still on call?” Richie asks nobody in particular, scrolling through his messages. 

**dusty-bun >>bitchard**

**3:59 a.m.**

dusty-bun: i’m going to bed, have fun with the movie 

“No, he left at like, four.”

“Goodnight, Rich.”

“Night,” Richie says, flopping onto his bed and pulling out his phone. 

**edsspagheds >>bitchard**

**9:12 a.m.**

edsspagheds: Good morning :)

bitchard: good morning to you too, my good fellow!

edsspagheds: I can just hear the awful accent

bitchard: you wound me, eds

edsspagheds: Yay

edsspagheds: Oh! I saw you made cookies last night, haha

edsspagheds: They looked good

bitchard: they were, thanks

**the losers party**

**9:23 a.m.**

elseggos: Good morning, guys! :)

bitchard: good morning

edsspagheds: Gm

staniel: Good morning.

stalker: Does anyone wanna hang out today? 

stalker: We can go to the park, or whatever

elseggos: I can’t, Hop won’t let me

willthewise: ^^

haystack: Are you guys all quarantined?

staniel: Yes.

b-b-bill: yeah

dusty-bun: Kind of? We have to stand away from each other, but I’m allowed to see you guys

thebetterredhead: my dad doesn’t really care

madmax: same, my mom doesn’t care

haystack: I can go outside, I just have to stay six feet apart. :)

mikenike: Can’t

edsspagheds: I don’t even think I have to answer

stalker: Dang it

madmax: Someone make a zoom

madmax: Holy shit, wait

_madmax changed ‘madmax’ to ‘zoomer’_

zoomer: Mike, remember that shit?

bitchard: he’s dead to the world rn, but he probably remembers? that was your thing in dnd right? the game i low-key wanted to get into, but never really did?

stalker: We should have our DnD names

willthewise: yes!!!

elseggos changed ‘elseggos’ to ‘themage’

themage: there we go

themage: will already has his

staniel: Guys, I’ll talk to you later, my mom is making me do homework. Bye.

bitchard: homework?

zoomer: Just say ttyl like a normal human

mikenike: His mom is making him do like work that she made up for him

bitchard: ohhhhh

bitchard: cool B)

He closes iMessage and opens SnapChat, sending streaks to everyone he has them with. 

It’s about noon when he can’t ignore his hunger any longer. 

Karen knocks on the door lightly, opening it a crack. “Hello? Are you two alive in there?” she jokes.

“I am,” Richie pipes back. 

Karen opens their blinds, and Mike stirs lightly. 

“Hi,” he mumbles, stretching out.

“Good morning,” Karen says brightly. “How late were you guys up?”

Richie shrugs. “I don’t know.”

She looks at him, but lets it go. “Well, are you hungry? I can heat up some waffles from this morning.”

Richie nods. “Yeah, I’ll be right down.”

She leaves the room. 

Mike cracks his back, and Richie cringes. 

“Could you not do that please? Thank you.”

“Did you even go to bed?”

“Psh, no,” Richie says, laughing a little. “And I feel great. Wait! Holy shit, holy shit, y’know what I should do?”

“No. I’m going to go get breakfast.”

“Okay, so you know those tik toks where people tried to stay awake until they got hallucinations? I should do that! I’d be great at it! This is going to be so much fun, holy shit. I’m a genius!”

“I didn’t hear any of that,” Mike says dryly, walking out of the room. “But no.”

“Yes. I’m going to do it. I’m going to make a private story for it too!”

He puts the flower crown filter on and then takes a quick picture, captioning it, ‘hey guys, i pulled an all nighter last night, and this might be my stupidest or best idea yet, but i’m going to try not to sleep for as long as possible, to see hallucinations and stuff? if you want to be on a private story for that, s/u!’. 

Bev swipes up immediately with a ‘hell yes!’ The rest of the losers party slowly swipe up, with varying degrees of curiosity and concern. 

Mostly concern, in Eddie’s case.

He gets a FaceTime call around thirty minutes after he posted that on his story. 

“Hey Eds, what’s up?”

“You need to go to bed. Do you know how dangerous the effects of sleep deprivation can be? First of all, your already bad memory is going to go to shit, you’re going to have even more trouble thinking and concentrating and shutting up, your immune system is going to be weak as fuck, and-”

“Woah, Eds Spagheds, slow down. I’m fine. In fact, I feel better than ever.”

“You look terrible, Richie,” Eddie says with a straight face. “I get you like to have fun, but this could have serious long term effects on your health!”

“Eddie, I’ll be fine, okay?”

Eddie sighs. “Okay, whatever. Just go eat breakfast, because I know you haven’t yet.”

“You know me so well.” 

Mike and Richie finish up breakfast, and then Richie posts on the story. 

“Hey guys, so I haven’t slept in roughly… 24 hours now? I’m feeling great, everything’s great, I’ll keep you guys updated.” Richie gives a thumbs up to the camera and then puts his phone down, turning on the TV to watch a little youtube.

Nancy walks downstairs, taking the remote from him. “I’m watching Heathers, move.”

“Woah, Nancy, you look different,” Richie says.

“Is it bad?” Nancy asks, self consciously reaching for her now much shorter, much blonder hair. 

“No! Not at all! It looks really good, actually,” Richie says honestly. 

“Why do you sound surprised?”

“I’m not!” he defends. “Can I watch Heathers with you?”

“Yeah, while Holly’s taking her nap.”

They watch Heathers, and then have lunch. Then Richie heads back upstairs to have a shower and then watch some movies on his laptop. 

He lies down, pulling up Netflix and starting a new show. He doesn’t get more than fifteen minutes into the second episode before he completely knocks out, his face pressed into the keyboard. 

**the losers party**

**4:43 p.m.**

mikeymikey: [thisidiot.png]

mikeymikey: Stay up until i see hallucinations my ass

mikeymikey: He’s so annoying

edsspagheds: He looks kind of… sweet?

themage: I’m quoting you on that

staniel: He’s going to break his fucking glasses.

mikeymikey: You got that one right

haystack: To quote Hermione, ‘what an idiot’

mikenike: ^^

thebetterredhead: he’ll try again when he wakes up i’m telling you

thebetterredhead: i have faith 

edsspagheds: You have faith in Richie completely destroying all his bodily functions?

edsspagheds: Good for you, Bev

thebetterredhead: shut up, it’s funny

zoomer: entertainment 

edsspagheds: Fuck you guys

“Mike! Richie!” Ted calls from downstairs. 

“What?” Mike yells back. 

Richie picks his head up, blinking groggily. “Hm?”

“Come here!” 

Mike rolls his eyes and then stands up. 

“Shit, Mike, why didn’t you wake me up?” Richie asks, dragging a hand through his hair.

Mike shrugs. “You’re an idiot.”

“Okay, but- y’know what? This is fine. So, I failed my first attempt, that’s fine. You know what the rule is: if you don’t succeed, try, try again. I can do this,” he says to himself. 

“Whatever you say,” Mike says, walking downstairs. “What?”

“I need you two to help me with some yard work,” Ted tells them. 

“What? Dad, I don’t-”

“It’s just a little bit of weeding, calm down. This’ll only take an hour or so, and by then dinner will be ready.”

“Oh, I just forgot, I didn’t do my e-learning assignment yet, today-” Richie starts. 

“Richie, it’s Saturday,” Ted deadpans. 

“Shit,” Richie mumbles. 

They weed both the front and backyard, and then they go back inside for dinner, which is relatively uneventful. Holly throws her peas on the ground, but she does that almost every night now, so again, nothing new. 

“Nancy, your hair-” Karen starts. 

“Do you like it?” Nancy asks, playing with a strand of her newly-dyed blonde hair. 

“It’s definitely different, but it’s a good different,” Karen declares. 

“Pretty,” Holly says, reaching out to her sister.

“Mom, can I dye my hair?” Richie asks. 

“Uh-” Karen stammers. “Richie, I’m not sure blonde is the right look for you, and you’d have to bleach it to go any other color-”

“Mom, please?”

“I’ll have to talk to your father.”

“Well, you’re both right here, just do it now,” he suggests. 

“Richie, drop it,” Mike says. 

“No, it’ll be fun,” Richie insists.

Karen and Ted talk about it while washing the dishes. 

“Richie, we’ve decided you can dye your hair with Kool-Aid dye, but not permanent dye or anything like that, okay?”

“Okay!” Richie says excitedly, going through the cabinets. He finds a packet of red Kool-Aid, setting it on the counter for later. He updates the private story quickly and then sits down to watch Disney +. Mike follows him, holding a bag of Doritos. 

“We just had dinner,” Richie says. 

“You’re one to talk,” Mike shoots back. “You eat peanut butter out of the jar.”

“Touche.” 

After a couple movies, Holly and their parents go to bed, leaving Nancy, Mike, and Richie alone in the living room. 

**bitchard >>edsspagheds**

**10:18 p.m.**

bitchard: did your mom take your phone yet?

edsspagheds: No, she fell asleep, I might have it for a while

bitchard: ft?

“Hi Eddie!” Richie exclaims. 

“Hi,” Eddie says, waving a little. “What’s up?”

“So, I thought it would be a good idea to dye my hair, because Nancy did, and now I want to, but my parents said I can only use Kool-Aid dye, so I’m going to do that. And I’m bored, so hi.”

“Hi,” Eddie says again. “What color did Nancy dye her hair?”

“Blonde,” Richie replies. “I’m going red, what do you think?”

“Red, like Bev?” Eddie asks incredulously.

“No, red like Kool-Aid,” Richie says, heating up the Kool-Aid in a pan according to the directions he found on the internet. “I hope this works. I think I’m going to be the best redhead, no cap.”

Eddie snorts. “Whatever you say.”

Richie finishes heating up and stirring the Kool-Aid. He puts it in a bowl, and then leans over the sink. 

“Uh… how do I get this on without wasting it?” he asks, not wanting all his hard work to go down the drain. 

“You should probably get some gloves, and then paint it on,” Eddie suggests.

“Nancy!” Richie calls. “Do you have any leftover gloves I could use?”

“Yeah, one sec!” she responds, running upstairs to get them. 

Mike walks into the kitchen, grabbing a bag of pretzels and sitting down at the table. 

“Mike, you’re going to gain like, twenty pounds,” Richie comments, stirring the Kool-Aid. 

“Shut up,” Mike says, flipping him the finger. 

Nancy comes back with two pairs of gloves, and then helps Richie get the back of his head, while he gets the front. 

“Okay, it says to leave it in for a few hours for people with dark hair,” Richie says, scrolling through the WikiHow page. “Eds, how do I look?” He poses, holding the phone up way too close to his face.

“Ridiculous,” Eddie responds, laughing.

“Aw, but I was going for sophisticated,” Richie says, pouting.

Eddie just laughs again. 

“Eddie, do you know if El has her phone on her tonight?” Mike asks hopefully, crunching on a pretzel.

“I don’t know, you could shoot her a text,” Eddie suggests.

“I did,” Mike says. “No response. She probably doesn’t have it.”

**mikeymikey >>stalker**

**11:01 p.m.**

mikeymikey: Richie’s being an idiot, wanna ft?

stalker: On call with Max rn, sorry dude

“Damn it,” Mike says, putting his phone down.

“Dude, it’s not that big of a deal, you’ll talk to El tomorrow,” Richie says, pulling at a strand of dripping red hair.

“No, it’s not that. Lucas is FaceTiming Max, and it’s annoying.”

“Because you can’t FaceTime El?” Nancy teases. 

“Yes!” Mike answers honestly. 

**mikeymikey >>staniel**

**11:09 p.m.**

mikeymikey: I’m bored, wanna ft

staniel: Sure.

“Hey, Stan,” Mike says.

“What’s up?” 

“Richie’s dying his hair.” Mike turns the camera.

“Why am I not surprised?” Stan asks, shaking his head.

“Hey, Stanthony! Don’t I look amazing?”

“No, and that nickname has to be the worst one you’ve come up with to this day.”

Eddie giggles on the phone.

“Is that- is that Eddie?” Stan asks.

“No!” Richie says, grabbing his phone and running to the other side of the room. “Nancy, this is boring. I don’t want to wait, I just want my hair to be done.”

“Well, we can rinse it out now,” she says. “It just won’t be as pigmented.”

“But I want it to be pigmented,” he nearly whines. 

“Then you just have to wait.”

Richie sits down at the kitchen counter and steals some of Mike’s pretzels, shoving them in his mouth and starting to bounce his leg with nervous energy.

“Mike, we should dye your hair, too.”

Stan snorts. “Yeah, Mike, you’d look great.”

“How about no?” 

“Mike, I can see it now. A red streak right about there,” Richie says, pulling at a strand of Mike’s hair. 

Mike swats his hand away. “Would you stop? No.”

“You can dye my hair,” Nancy says on a whim, going through the cabinet for another pack of Kool-Aid.

“Really?” Richie asks, standing up.

“Why the hell not?” She hands him a packet of grape Kool-Aid. “Do you think purple will look good on me?”

“Only one way to find out,” Richie answers. 

“Holy shit, this is going to be entertaining,” Mike says, grabbing another handful of pretzels. “Stan, I’ll call you back, I’m posting this shit on our private story.”

“Hi private story!” Richie exclaims, waving like an idiot.

Mike snorts. 

“Today, I’m dying Nancy’s hair purple. As you can see, she’s already bleached it-”

“Oh, stop talking like this is 2015 YouTube,” Mike says, rolling his eyes.

“But 2015 YouTube was the best YouTube, Michael! Literally my life is beaches every single-”

Nancy clamps a hand over his mouth. “If you start with that song again I will actually kick you out of the house. I do not care if you get corona.”

“That shit is _annoying_ ,” Mike agrees, ending the video and posting it. 

He continues to take pictures and send them to the group chat as Richie dyes Nancy’s hair.

**the losers party**

**12:01 a.m.**

mikeymikey: [purple.png]

mikeymikey: [glasses.png]

stalker: Another pair of glasses, down the drain

zoomer: rip

dusty-bun: F

haystack: Purple? 

staniel: Do you guys have something against Kool-Aid? Just drink it, like a normal person.

b-b-bill: F to the Kool-Aid

thebetterredhead: i take this moment of silence for the kool-aid that has been wasted in richie’s gross hair and nancy’s beautiful hair

“What the hell? My hair isn’t gross!” Richie says, feeling it as he speaks. “Eddie, is my hair gross?”

“It low-key looks like Bev’s bathroom did that one summer,” Eddie says, shrugging.

“I didn’t ask, Eds.”

“You actually did-” Mike starts, before Richie cuts him off.

“I didn’t ask you either. Now, anyway, we should go rinse our hair, right, Nance?”

She nods, and they go upstairs as Mike posts the rest of the pictures on their private story and throws away the now empty bag of pretzels.

“Okay, Mike, what do you think?” Richie asks, running back down the stairs and flipping his hair.

“Uh… you look… different?”

“Thanks,” Richie says flatly.

“Your hair is red.”

“I didn’t notice.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I think he looks good,” Eddie pipes up from Richie’s phone.

“Why thank you, Edward Spaghedward,” Richie says in a British accent. “It truly means the most, coming from you.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Nancy fixes a strand of hair using her camera and then puts her phone down. “I’m going to wait for my hair to dry and then go to bed. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

“Okay,” Mike says. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Richie says. 

She waves from the staircase.

“Okay, what now?” Richie asks, sitting down next to Mike at the kitchen table.

“No clue,” Mike responds. 

“What now, Eddie Spaghetti?”

Eddie shrugs through the screen. “And don’t call me that!”

“I’m hungry,” Richie states.

“Again?” Mike asks.

Richie looks at him.

“Yeah, okay, me too.” 

They grab another bag of chips and then sit down to binge-watch a little Netflix. Eddie falls asleep on the phone after an hour or so, and Richie is forced to hang up. He updates the ‘sleep? we don’t know her’ story a few hours after Mike goes to bed, and then goes up to finish watching Netflix in his room to avoid questions from his mom about how many all-nighters he’s pulled in the past week. 

“Mike, I miss everyone,” Richie says the next day, rolling over in bed and throwing his phone on the floor.

“Me too,” Mike admits, shutting off his phone. He stretches. “What time is it?”

“Four in the morning. Oh shit, I should update the story with the thirty-six hour mark,” he says absently, reaching for his phone and almost falling off the bed. “We should sneak out, Mike.”

“What?”

“We should go see Stan or Dustin.”

“Okay, first of all, even if we did manage to get out of the house, Stan’s parents wouldn’t even let us near their house. Dustin might work, but Mom’s going to say no.”

Richie makes a weird, almost whining sound that Mike knows is mostly coming from the sleep deprivation he is insisting on putting himself through. 

**the losers party**

**4:11 a.m.**

bitchard: i miss you guys :(

staniel: Go to bed.

bitchard: rude :(

bitchard: … 

bitchard: :( :( :(

thebetterredhead: richie, do you need to ft

bitchard: yes

“Hi, Bev,” Richie says, yawning a bit. 

“Hi,” she says, waving. 

“I miss you,” Richie whines, burying his head in his arms. “We should be baking cookies right now.”

“Bake cookies by yourself, with me on call?” Bev suggests.

“I did that with Dustin, I’m bored, Beverly. I feel like everyone’s getting annoyed with me and they all want me to shut up. Nobody responds to my texts anymore. Face it, the groupchat’s dying and it’s basically all my fault. I think everyone hates me.”

“I think you just need some sleep,” Bev says. 

Richie whines again and then rubs his eyes. “No, I’ve made it this long. I haven’t fucking hallucinated yet. Bev, are you sure they don’t hate me?” 

“Yes,” she reassures him.

“I need a hug,” he mumbles. 

“Micahel, hug your brother,” Bev tells Mike. 

“What? No, Bev, I’m not-”

“Just do it,” she says impatiently. 

Mike sighs and then gets up, going over to hug Richie. Richie buries his face in Mike’s shoulder and stays there for a while. 

“Is he okay?” Bev asks. 

“Yeah, yeah. I got it, you can go.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Mike.”

“ ‘night, Bev.” He turns his attention back to his brother. “Richie, are you alright?”

“Yes,” Richie replies. “Sorry. I need to… is the sun up yet?”

“Almost,” Mike says. “What do you need?”

“I need some coffee, and a shower. And to update the private story. I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” Mike says, heading back to his own bed as he watches Richie go. 

* * *

“Update time!” Richie yells at the camera. “I haven’t slept in 50 hours, I can hear colors… and uhm…” he trails off, staring at an interesting spot on the wall. “But no hallucinations yet, I had RedBulls this morning… three of them, I think? They were tasty, doin’ wonders for my ADHD… thanks for sticking around, I’ll let you know when I hallucinate. Or Mike will film. Mike, will you film?”

“No!” Mike yells.

“He will,” Richie confirms, with a thumbs up. He yawns into his hand and then posts the video to his story. 

Somehow, Richie completes his e-learning for the day and survives dinner. Then, Karen announces they’re having a family movie night, and Richie just about loses it. 

“Fuck, Mike, you have to promise you won’t let me fall asleep. Promise!”

“Rich, I can’t do that,” Mike says, pulling his hand away from Richie’s pinky.

“Well Nancy can’t ‘cuz she always sits on the other couch. Come on, promise!” Richie says again, holding out his pinky. “Please?”

Mike sighs. “ _Fine_.”

The movie is Frozen 2, which holds Richie’s interest for a total of twenty minutes before he has to start focusing on other things to keep himself awake. 

“Mike, you halfta punch me,” Richie slurs against Mike’s shoulder.

“What? Richie, I’m not-” Mike whispers. 

“Just gotta… fucking do it, come on,” Richie mumbles, eyes still closed. 

Mike pushes him off, and Richie keeps himself occupied by pinching himself every few seconds. 

“Mike, I’m almost there… just like Tiana?”

Mike laughs. “The movie’s over Richie. You made it. Y’know, maybe it would’ve been better if we watched Tiana’s movie, since you like that one so much.”

Richie is quiet, staring off into space again.

“Richie?” Mike asks. 

“I’m sorry… what…?” 

Mike laughs. “The movie’s over, dipshit. Let’s go upstairs.”

Richie nods, continuing to stare straight ahead. He spends the night listening to all of Melanie Martinez’s K-12 songs playing in his headphones at the same time, at full volume. 

“Update… it’s been, uhm… 68 hours since I’ve slept last and uhm… woah, shit,” Richie says, falling onto the couch. “It’s a little dizzy, I’m a little dizzy? Breakfast had waffles, as usual? No hallucinations but I did see a weird colorful bug crawling across the ceiling this morning. I’m pretty sure Mike saw it also?”

Mike doesn’t say anything, just keeps watching Netflix. 

“Fuck, my head hurts,” Richie mumbles absently. He sinks deeper into the couch, letting his head fall back and his eyes close. He opens his eyes and springs up, throwing his phone on the ground. “Holy shit. My phone is on fucking fire, Mikey.”

Mike stands up, grabbing his phone and opening up SnapChat.

“Did you see that? It’s burning or… something… I-” Richie stumbles on his feet, and Mike helps him back over to the couch. 

“There’s that weird-ass bug again,” Richie says to the ceiling. He lifts an arm, pointing at it.

“I don’t see a thing,” Mike says. “Richie, you did it. You’re hallucinating.”

“I did it? Oh…” he trails off. “Yay.”

“You can sleep now, Richie.”

“I can?”

Mike nods. 

“Kay.”

But Richie just sits there, staring at the ceiling for some time longer. 

“Is he alright?” Ted asks, walking into the living room. 

“I think so,” Mike replies, having finished filming and is now updating the story. “Richie, we should go upstairs now.”

Richie doesn’t answer. 

Mike takes his hand and leads him up the stairs, where he trips over his own feet a little bit. He stops at their window, standing there and staring outside.

“What’s going on?” Mike asks, pulling out his phone again.

“There is a giant ass bird outside. Stan would fucking love it.”

Mike snorts. “What color is it?”

Richie doesn’t respond, in fact, he doesn’t even blink. 

“Richie, you’re scaring me, you need to blink,” Mike says. 

“I will moisten my eyes now, yes,” Richie says, but he doesn’t do anything. His eyes close involuntarily and his head dips, and Mike drops his phone in his haste to make sure his twin doesn’t hit the ground. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Mm…” Richie mumbles. 

Mike helps him into bed, where he immediately passes out, mumbling things about giant ass bugs in his hair, but the fact that he doesn’t mind them as much as he thought he would, then he’s quiet, as quiet as Mike’s seen him in a long time.

“Is he okay?” Karen asks, standing over her technically youngest son, who is still asleep and snoring loudly. 

He’s been asleep for around sixteen hours or so, and Mike explained the whole situation about the private story, Frozen 2, and all of the things that happened over the past 72 hours. 

“He’s fine, just worn out,” Ted reassures her. 

“He hasn’t moved or said anything in ten hours, I think he’s dead,” Karen jokes. 

“Definitely,” Mike agrees. 

“Should we wake him up?” Karen wonders. 

“He may or may not punch you,” Mike states. 

“Oh, okay. Well, dinner’s ready. Are you hungry?”

Mike nods. “Yeah. I’ll be down in a bit.”

She leaves the room. 

“Richie,” he says loudly from across the room. “Richard, wake the hell up. Richie!”

Richie inhales sharply and picks his head up, looking around wildly. “What the hell, Michael?” He turns over, pulling the blankets over his head. “Fucking idiot, shut the fuck up.”

“Dinner’s ready, in case you were wondering.”

“Fuck you.”

“Okay, jeez!” Mike puts his hands up in surrender, walking downstairs. 

Richie shows up a little while later, looking an absolute mess. His hair is a wreck, he’s got pillow creases on his cheek, and his clothes are all wrinkled. 

“You look like death,” Nancy states. 

“I hate all of you,” Richie deadpans. 

“Richie! That no nice!” Holly exclaims.

“No, you’re fine, I’m… talking to the world?” Richie questions himself.

After dinner, he updates the story. “Hey guys, I just woke up… I low-key just want to go back to sleep and never talk to anybody ever again, but that’s fine… a minor side-effect! I’m going to try to power-up over the weekend and then possibly try again to set a record? I did hallucinate, apparently, but I don’t remember shit, so…”

“Woah,” Mike says, walking into the living room. “No. You are not trying again.”

“But, you know what they say! If you don’t succeed, try, try again!”

“Not with this kind of stuff!” Mike argues. “You literally just slept for sixteen hours. Please tell me you learned your lesson?!”

Richie shrugs, turning back to the camera. “We’ll see what happens, just stay tuned…? I guess? Peace out, y’all.” 

**the losers party**

**7:07 p.m.**

thebetterredhead: well richie, you did it

thebetterredhead: you succeeded

zoomer: at being an actual dumbass? 

stalker: Yeah

bitchard: this is why bev is the better redhead

zoomer: oh, fuck you

zoomer changed ‘zoomer’ to ‘thebestredhead’

thebestredhead: accurate

mikenike: Richie, are you okay?

_thebetterredhead changed ‘thebetterredhead’ to ‘thebestestredhead’_

thebestredhead: oh it’s on

_thebestredhead changed ‘thebestredhead’ to ‘thebestestestredhead’_

willthewise: i think my eyes just had a stroke

bitchard: yes i’m okay, and agreed

edssapgheds: Are you sure you’re alright, I mean, you fucking hallucinated for goodness’s sake, do you know all the affects that can have on your mental health long term? And you had three RedBulls that morning? Why did I even want to be on that stupid private story-

bitchard: because you lOvE me ;)

edsspagheds: Shut up, Richie

staniel: Yeah, shut up, Richie.

thebestestestredhead: richie, you’re a legend

bitchard: i know

_bitchard changed ‘bitchard’ to ‘legend’_

dusty-bun: Okay off-topic but where are mike and el

b-b-bill: making out over the phone

thebestestredhead: LMFAO

mikenike: i-

haystack: That’s not even possible?

b-b-bill: a j o k e ben

b-b-bill: a joke

themage: hi guys

b-b-bill: oh hi el!

staniel: Ha!

dusty-bun: Stan, you type like a Karen on FaceBook laughing at a minion meme 

b-b-bill: ^^

dusty-bun: And the meme says, “if stress burned calories I’d be a supermodel”

thebestestredhead: HA

themage: lol

thebestestredhead: I’M SCREAMING

willthewise: i can’t with you guys, seriously

mikenike: PFFF

staniel: Newflash, Dustin, I didn’t ask. 

stalker: i mean, he’s not wrong?

legend: ^^

“Guys, I’m bored,” Nancy says, walking downstairs and sitting directly in front of the TV.

“El, one second,” Mike says to the phone. He turns to Nancy. “Can it wait?”

“Clean your room or something,” Richie offers, texting Eddie. 

“I just did! I’m going crazy. I need to see people. There’s only so many times I can paint my nails and rearrange my room before I go stir-crazy. Don’t you guys miss everyone?”

“Yes,” Mike says. “Now, excuse me, I’m FaceTiming my girlfriend.”

Nancy rolls her eyes as he goes up to his room. “Richie, it’s about to rain soon. Don’t you wanna go outside?”

Richie’s eyes light up. “Of course.” 

They sit outside and watch the sky cloud over. It starts to rain lightly, and Richie runs out there and lets it drip down his face and wet his hair, Nancy doing the same. 

“Shit. You don’t realize how much you miss simple things, like getting caught in rain until it’s gone,” Nancy mumbles. 

“I feel alive,” Richie whispers. “Shit.”

They find a small puddle by the corner of the street, and Richie splashes Nancy almost immediately. She laughs and splashes him back, and they run in the rain for a few minutes more, feeling like kids again.

“Okay, I think we should go inside, before Mom and Dad wonder where we went,” Nancy says. 

“Okay,” Richie agrees.

They head back inside, and go back to their rooms. 

Richie listens to Mike talk to El, and wishes so desparately that he could talk to Eddie the same way. 

“How was your day?” Mike asks. 

“Good,” Eleven replies. “I made dinner and desert.” 

“What did you make?”

“For dinner, I made Rotini and for dessert I baked cookies.”

“Oh, that sounds so good,” Mike says.

“Yeah, it was. I miss you,” she says, after a moment.

“I miss you, too,” he tells her. “We’ll see each other soon, though, okay? I promise.”

“Mike, I don’t know if we can. There’s no way Hop or your mom would let us.”

“Well, we won’t get to hug and stuff, but we can see each other from six feet away. How does that sound?”

“It sounds okay,” she replies. “How was your day?”

“Boring, as usual. I watched TV and sent Snaps. My SnapScore and screentime are both going up dramatically over this break.”

“Same,” El says, laughing a little. 

“Y’know, I never thought I’d miss school, but it’s… it’s really hard without it.”

“The simple things, right?” El asks. “Hugs in the hallways, the notes we used to pass, skating with Max, getting into stupid conversations during first hour…”

“All of that, and more, yes,” Mike says. “But this will be over soon. And we’ll have all that again. It _has_ to be over soon.”

“Hopper and Joyce don’t think so. They think this is going to last for a long time. We might not even go back to school in the fall,” El admits.

“No. That won’t happen,” Mike says stubbornly. “We’ll get through this, and we’ll see each other again, alright?”

“Okay. I gotta go, Hopper takes my phone at ten.”

“Goodnight, El. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he says sweetly. Richie can hear in his voice just how much he likes her. 

“Goodnight.”

He hangs up, and Richie pulls a pillow over his head to block out his thoughts.

It’s so _easy_ for them. It’s so _fucking_ -

_No, it’s not._

_El was raised in a lab, and you went through the same things Mike went through with the demogorgon but instead of losing your girlfriend, you lost her as a best friend, so it’s different, but imagine how much trauma they felt-_

“Richie, are you okay?” Mike asks softly. 

“What?” Richie asks, sitting up. “Hm, yeah, no, I’m fine.”

“Yes or no?” Mike smiles a little. 

“I’m alright. I just miss everyone. But that’s nothing new and I’m not alone, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“It matters,” Mike says. “It sucks right now, duh, but we’ll get out. Okay?”

“Yeah. Whatever.” Richie turns his back to Mike and then feels a pillow hit him in the back. “Nerd.”

“Haven’t heard that one in a while,” Mike says. 

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything?”

“You literally did though?”

Richie throws the pillow back at him and then scrolls through Tik Tok for a while. 

**the losers party**

**11:14 p.m.**

legend: guys we should make a zoom

thebestestestredhead: i support this decision

stalker: Yeah, that sounds like a good idea

haystack: So who’s making it?

legend: well… so here’s the thing

legend: i kinda sorta maybe forgot to lie about my age while trying to make a zoom account so now it won’t let me in

thebestestredhead: haha sucks to suck

legend: yeah, but you swallow

thebestestredhead: richie i hate you

staniel: As do I, but a zoom would be nice. I’ll host, so we can mute Richie!

legend: fuck you guys

legend: when should we do it?

thebestestestredhead: maybe tomorrow night since el, will, mike h, and eddie already got their phones taken tonight

staniel: Okay, I’ll set up the meeting. See you guys tomorrow. 

dusty-bun: “See you guys tomorrow.” I-

dusty-bun: jUsT tExT nOrMalLy

staniel: No.

**legend >>dusty-bun**

**11:25 p.m.**

legend: okay, as much as it annnoys the crap out of me, he only does that ‘cuz of his OCD

legend: he’s not super sensitive about it, like he’s accepted that people think it’s a little odd but it’s a thing that he just needs to do so… yeah

dusty-bun: Oh, sorry I didn’t know

dusty-bun: I’ll leave it alone now

legend: don’t be sorry, i just wanted to let you know haha

The next day, Richie and Mike sit down in front of Richie’s laptop to join the zoom. 

“Hey, guys!” Richie says loudly.

“Hi,” Will says, waving. “I miss you guys.”

“I miss you, too,” Mike says. El joins the call, scooting in next to Will. 

“Guys! I just had a great idea!” Dustin exclaims.

“What?” Eddie asks. 

“We should add Steve, Robin, and Nancy!”

“No,” Mike says, facepalming.

“That could be fun,” Ben says, open to the idea. 

“Here, let me text Steve,” Dustin says. 

“H-how many people c-can even j-join a z-zoom?” Bill asks. 

Max shrugs. “Not sure.”

“I don’t know either,” Stan admits. 

“This is so weird,” Bev says. “Like, normally we’re all fighting each other over pizza and laughing and sitting on the couch, but like… damn this feels disconnected, in a way? Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Max agrees. 

“Must be a redhead thing,” Richie says, shrugging.

“Okay, would you stop with the redhead jokes? They were never even funny,” Max says.

“Okay, to be fair, you guys kind of fueled them with your usernames and all that,” Mike points out.

“Michael, I didn’t ask you,” Max says. 

“They don’t bother me.” Bev shrugs. “Being a redhead is its own special personality trait.”

Max snorts. “Okay, it’s funny when she does it, ‘cuz she gets it!”

“Okay, anyway, only Steve can join,” Dustin says excitedly. “Stan, you should let him in.”

“Nancy, do you want to join a zoom?” Richie calls quickly.

“With who?” she asks.

“Everyone,” he states simply.

“There’s nothing else to do. Why not?” She pulls up a chair in Mike and Richie’s room, next to their desk.

“So how are you, Steve?” Dustin asks. 

“Fine,” he replies. “Missing work and shit, but other than that, fine.”

“Work, that’s right, that’s a thing,” Mike H says. “I haven’t gotten off. Y’know, farm duties are kinda year round.”

“Have any new babies been born?” Bev asks. 

“Yes, actually! There’s a few baby sheep that you guys will have to come see after corona!” Mike answers. 

“Sheep,” El murmurs excitedly. “Wow. How small are they?”

“Tiny,” Mike explains. 

“I can’t wait,” Will says.

“They’ll be a bit bigger by the time we get to see them, Will,” Eddie reminds him. “But still fluffy.”

“Yeah,” Will says. “Wow. Being here with all of you again, but not being in Mike and Richie’s basement, I never realized how much I missed DnD.”

“Yeah, for once I agree. I miss DnD. After quarantine we should play,” Mike says. 

“Agreed,” Lucas says, nodding. 

“Nerds,” Max mutters.

“Okay, but you are literally a skater girl stereotype,” Mike points out. 

“So? Skating is cool!”

“They never stop arguing, do they?” Eddie asks nobody in particular.

“N-no,” Bill answers. “That’s o-one thing th-that will p-probably a-always stay the s-same.”

“It’s almost comforting?” Ben asks. 

Bev snorts. “A little bit, yeah.” 

“Okay guys, we have a time limit on this shitshow, does anyone wanna talk about anything worthwhile?” Stan asks. 

“Make the time limit go away. Wait, holy shit, I just came up with another genius idea!” Richie screams. 

“Oh no,” Max mutters. “I know that look.”

“Me too,” Eddie says. “We’re in deep shit.”

El laughs. 

“We should try to set a world record for the longest zoom ever. Isn’t that the best idea I’ve ever had?”

Eddie facepalms. “And, just to be clear, your other best idea was staying up for seventy-two hours in a row?” he asks. 

Richie nods. “Come on, guys. It’ll be fun!”

“Richie, how is that even supposed to work?” Eddie asks. “Someone’s computer is going to crash, and you’re on FaceTime with me almost all day anyway, so why would you need to be on a zoom, I mean, I get that you want to see everyone, but still, you could FaceTime us all individually without wasting so much storage and data on your laptop! It’s just… not a good idea.”

“What he said,” Max states, smirking.

“You guys are no fun.” Richie pouts. “I need new friends.”

“Nobody else would deal with you, though,” Bev tells him.

“Accurate,” Mike says. 

“Oh, shut up, Michael, you’re just as annoying.”

“I second that,” Max says. 

“Okay, now everyone’s ganging up against us, I see how it is,” Mike says. 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Stan says. 

They laugh and talk on zoom until the time limit runs out, where they retreat to the group chat for another hour or so before bed. Or, before the twins say goodnight, but spend the next three hours on Tik Tok and YouTube, respectively.

* * *

After another boring three weeks of zoom calls, baking, and staying awake until four in the morning, El and Will finally manage to convince Hopper and Joyce to come over, just for an hour or so, for Hopper to talk to Karen about what’s going on while the kids talk and hang out. 

Richie’s a tiny bit bummed that he can’t see Eddie, but he knows when they finally do get out of quarantine, it’ll just make the hug he gives him all the more special. 

“They’re here,” Mike says excitedly, opening the door and getting Richie. 

Richie stands up and follows him outside, where their parents have set up some chairs, masks, and a few drinks.

“El, my bestie!” Richie yells, rushing over to greet them.

“I thought I was your bestie,” Will says, feigning hurt.

“Will, you’ll always be my number one, but this girl lived in our basement, remember?”

El giggles. “Hi, Richie. Hi, Mike.”

“Hi,” Mike says, blushing a little. “How are you?”

“Good. Really, really happy to be out of the house,” she says. 

“Yeah, it must be getting pretty boring over there, huh?”

“Yep,” Will replies. “Jonathan is basically nocturnal now, because for some reason, Mom takes our phones but not his? It doesn’t make any sense, but yeah. He woke up for this, because, well… just look at them.”

Richie turns his attention to Jonathan and Nancy. “They’re making out with their eyes,” he whispers. 

Will snorts. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Damn, I wish I could hug you guys,” El says. “This majorly sucks.”

“Yeah, but it’s better than not seeing each other at all,” Mike says. “So, what have you guys been up to?”

“Baking, playing ROBLOX, Minecraft, Smash, Sims 4, y’know, the usual,” Will says. 

“I bet I can bake a better wedding cake than you,” Richie states. 

“Cannot,” Will argues.

“I’m on Will’s side,” El says, smiling.

“Me too. Sorry, bro.” Mike shrugs.

“Did you- did you really just _bro_ me?” Richie asks. “Y’know what? I will prove all of you wrong. Wedding cake contest when we get out of quarantine?”

“I’m down,” Will says. “We can have a party, everyone can taste them and be the judges.”

“That sounds so good,” El says. 

“Great. We’ll do it then, whenever this bullshit ends.”

They talk for a little bit longer before heading home. 

And, in late June, when they’re all able to finally get together again, Richie wins the wedding cake contest by one vote, and that vote was Eddie’s. 

And if Eddie’s a little biased, nobody comments. 

And if they all missed each other’s company more than they’d care to admit out loud, that is just told in how fun that summer is, most of it spent in Mike and Richie’s backyard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey  
> me again, lol  
> uhm... if you want to see me write reddie when they first see each other after being let out of quarantine, or you want more mileven content, go ahead and comment your ideas and i'll make it into a taken-seriously 4am fic and post it here! or, if you want to see a whole modern au where they have a groupchat and everything, comment your ideas for that, too! with quarantine i have tons and tons of time to write, and even though i have too many ideas to count, i can never have too many ideas!  
> that made sense.  
> i hope you have a good rest of your day!


End file.
